LIBRARY OF CONGRESS. 



Cliapo Copyright No..„_ 

Slielf..ViV__.5 7 



' V^ 

UNITED STATES OF AMERICA. 



PLATFORM PEARLS 



PLATFORM PEARLS 

FOR 

TEMPERANCE WORKERS AND 
OTHER REFORMERS 



A Collection of Recitations and Other Selections for Entertainments 

and Public Meetings; especially adapted for Christian 

Endeavor Societies, Prohibition Clubs, Loyal 

Temperance Legions, Women's Christian 

Temperance Unions, etc., etc., etc. 



COMPILED By 

LILIAN M. HEATH 



1 n U1Vi*> _J-'' 



NEW YORK 
FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY 

LONDON AND TORONTO 
1896 






COPTRIGHT, 1896, BY 

FUNK & WAGNALLS COMPANY. 



Printed in the United StcUes. 



PREFACE. 



(Overheard by accident.) 

The Public : ' ' Who comes here ? " 

Answer : "It is I, Platform Pearls, just arrived and looking 
for my friends. Can you direct me to them ? " 

The Public: "Perhaps, if you will give me their names." 

Platform Pearls : "To save time, I'll give you their initials, 
for I am sure you must know them all : Y. P. S. C. E., W. C. 
T. U., Y. W. C. T. U., C. L. S. C, Y. M. C. A., Y. W. C. A., 
L. T. L., I. O. G. T., Proh — " 

The Public (impatiently): "Hold on, hold on, that's 
enough for the present. Do you expect me to believe all that ? 
Where did you come from ?" 

Platform Pearls : "From the North, the South, the East, 
the West ; from Michigan, Indiana, Ohio, Illinois, Mississippi, 
Missouri, Pennsylvania, New York, Connecticut, Maine ; from 
the mountains, the cities, and the islands of the sea ; from for- 
eign lands and from the Hub of the solar system ; from every 
corner where there are pearls worth gathering." 

The Public : "Well, well, you are quite a traveler. What 
brings you here, and what do you intend to do, having arrived ?" 

Platform Pearls : "I came because they said I was needed, 
and I intend to — " 

The Public : ' ' But who are ' they ' ? " 

Platform Pearls : "Jessie A. Ackerman, Belle Kearney, 
Mattie McClellan Brown, Dr. Mary Wood Allen, Lou J. 
Beauchamp, Margaret B. Ellis, E. J. Wheeler, Clara C. Hoff- 
man, and other national temperance workers ; so many, indeed, 
that you would not have patience to hear me through the list. 
Now, as to my aims : First of all, I wish to create a channel 
through which the enthusiastic young people can help in the 
grandest reform of the age. Next, I would bring stirring 
•words of truth to arouse the Christian Church to meet its glo- 
rious opportunity for progress. Then I would enlist every col- 
lege on the side of right, and help students to convince others, 
through the words of our greatest orators and statesmen, past 



vi Prbfxce. 

and present. I would place a ready weapon in the hands of 
temperance soldiers, by giving facts and figures showing that 
licensing sin does not pay. I would cultivate the gift of oratory, 
by making myself indispensable at medal contests. 1 would 
arouse the true spirit of patriotism. I have short, easy ' pieces ' 
for the Uttle ones, and carefully classified selections for the de- 
partments of the "W. C. T. U., not forgetting the Departments 
of Mercy and of Peace and Arbitration. And in all this I 
would keep ever in view the value of time, and have therefore 
a special topical index, that each busy worker or student may 
readily find what is best adapted to the occasion. In such ways 
I would, with your kind permission, be helpful to those who 
are seeking to uplift the world." 

The Fublic : "If you can do all this, you are indeed just 
what is needed. But how am T to know that what you say is 
true? And aren't you a little egotistical and over-ambitious 
— not to say conceited — for a new-comer ? " 

Flat form Pearls : " If I seem so, it is because I have tried 
to answer your questions. The one who sent me would 
give me no introduction, but said I must speak for myself, and 
I have done so. Suppose you kindly read me through, and then 
judge." L. M. H. 



TABLE OF CONTENTS. 



{For List of AxUhoi's see page xi, and for Topical Index seepage 2U1.) 



No. 

" Abou Ben Adhem," Caroline Siyencer 147 

All the Eights She Wants, Carl Si>encer 93 

American Desert, John O. Woolley 16 

Anti-Sulxragist's Lament, Ilattie Horner Lmtfhan 25 

Appeal for the Home, Mrs. Jessie Brow7i llUiun. 132 

Arsenal at Springfield, II. W. Lonnfelkm 125 

Baby Shoes, Helen Josephine Baker 15 

Back to His Chrysalis, Charlotte Perkins Stetson 23 

Battle Rally, George A. Fish 53 

Big Four, Sam Walter Foss 140 

Boundary Post, Lelia B. Hewes 57 

Brand of Cain, The Voice 26 

Calf Path, Sam Walter Foss 158 

Case for Charity, Hattie Horner Louthan 99 

Case of " Personal Liberty," E. J. Wheeler 28 

Certainty of Progress, Wendell Phillips , 20 

Christian Endeavorer's Position, John O. Woolly 60 

Columbia, Fannie F. Ostrander 29 

Coming Era, Leon Mead 27 

Compmsory Morality, Horace Greeley 119 

Conscience Crystallized, John G. Woolley , . 153 

Core of the Rum Question, Horace Greeley 86 

Cost of a License, Mrs. A. A. Rolfe 13 

Curtain Lecture, Union Signal 82 

Cut Down the Tree, Pev. Br. Wm. H. Boole 77 

Dawn of Mercy, Mary F. Lovell 100 

Deacon Beery 's Protest, Home Gazette 72 

Deacon's Match, John P. St. John 56 

Decoration Day — 1082, TAwTzas //. Burgess 144 

Difference. The, Pev. J. C. FemcUd 103 

Does it Pay ? T. V. Powderly 94 

Don't Sell Your Conscience, Henry Ward Beecher 10 

"Dorlesky's Errents," Josiah Allen''8 Wife 74 

Dreaming and Waking, Lticy Larcom 51 

Drink, Translated by H. G 63 

Effect of Moral Cowardice, Francis Wayland 90 

Eve's Recompense, Mabel R. Winter 73 

Exactly of a Size, Pev. P. J. Bull 85 

Expression, M. McClellan Brown 1 

Faith and Liberty, Pev. Joseph Cook 37 

Fanatic, A, Maria L. Underhill CI 

Farmer and His Gun, Tallie Morgan 1:33 

Father's Woe, A, Helen M. Gougar 155 

" Feed My Shcci)," B.E.8. , 49 

First Duty of Citizens, Archbishop John Ireland 40 

First Reform, John LUnjd Thomas 83 

Flower Mission, Mary T. Lathrap 104 

Forces of Battle, Pev. Br. J. H. Ecob 42 

For God and Home, E. H. Chace 123 

Four Million '' Christian " Murderers, E. J. WhAieler 139 

Fundamental Reform, Bolton Hall 98 

Funeral To-Day, Helen M. Gougar 164 

General Neal Dow, Wm. Grant Bjvoks 87 

Getting at the Root, Belle Kearney 150 

Give Them Justice, John B. Finclt 88 

Glorious Monument, Prof. Chas. W. Sanders 62 

Gold of Right Habits, Jessie F. Bouser 3 



yiii Table of Contents. 



No. 

Great Advance, Rev. Dr. I. K. Funic 166 

Greatest Missionary Need, A. MorehouM 102 

Great Problem, Mrs. Nettie B. Fernald 112 

Ground Out by a Crank, C. M., in The Voice 134 

House that Sam Built, L. A. E. Stikeleaiher 7 

"If," Wm. Howard 75 

Indictment, John B. Finch 39 

" I've Got It 1 " Lorin Ludlow ^ 65 

Jug an' Me an' Jim, The, Eleanor Mayfield 17 

Just the Same, Every Bay Church 142 

Land of Prohibition, Mrs. Harrison Lee 66 

Lead the Bo^ 152 

Letter Exercise, Ika Jones 148 

Level of Civilization, Wendell Phillips 101 

Liberty, Mrs. L. E. Bailey 145 

Liquor and Wages, C. Be F. Hoxie 96 

Little Girl'B Advice, Union Signal 149 

Loyal Temperance Legion, Mary T. Lathrap 108 

Mainspring of Triumph, Ghas. Sumner 8 

Master Calleth, The, Frances E. Willard 114 

Merry Cliristmas, The Voice 97 

Midnight Scenes, Jessie A. Ackerman 128 

Moaning of the Bar, E. J. Wheeler 9 

Moral Suasion, Rev. Thos. Bixon 58 

Moral Warfare, J. G. Whittier 137 

Mothers who Wear the Eibhon, Harriet Francene Crock&r 151 

Mussulman's View, H. G. McKay 6 

Nation Exalted, Lilian M. Heath 172 

Nectar of the Hills, T. Be Witt Talmage 67 

New Song of Sixpence, Mrs. N. S. Eitchel 110 

Not a Mushroom Party, J. J. Ashenhurst 52 

Not from My Bottle, Hattie Horner 3 

On a Lehigh Valley Train, Tallie Morgan 157 

On Certain Adjectives, Amos Wells 127 

One Beauty of Civilization, Rev. Chas. R. Kingsley 129 

Only Conclusion, Archhishx)p John Ireland 22 

Our Beneficent License Laws, Rufv£ C. Landon 41 

Our Watchword— Union I Chas. Sumner 14 

Patriot's Ally, Mary H. Hunt 106 

Peace Hymn of the Republic, James JVhitcomb Riley 131 

People's Voice, A, J. G. Whittier 154 

" Personal Liberty " Cry, Prof. Samuel Bickie 80 

Place in Heaven, National W. C. T. U. Bepartment of Mercy 79 

Politician's Wail, Edna C. Jackson 120 

Power of Righteous Law, Rev. Br. E. H. Chapin Ill 

Practise vs. Professions, Erie Conference 91 

Prayer, Rev. Dr. Chas. F. Beems 113 

Present Crisis, James Russell Lowell 81 

Prohibition's Bugle Call, Lide Meriwether 78 

Puzzled Santa Claus, Alice M. Guernsey 161 

Queer, isn't it ?, Hattie Horner Louthan 55 

Question for Patriots, E. J. Wheeler 12 

Quest Magnificent, Lelia Belle Hewes 21 

Record of Non-Partisanship, A. B. Heath 160 

Red Niagara, Charles S. Morris 32 

Reformer, The, J. G. Whittier , 43 

Remedy within Reach, Clara G. Hoffman 130 

Responsibility of Voters, Henry Ward Beecher 45 

Run up the Flag, Rev. Br. Wm. E. Boole 138 

Sailor Lad, Olive Harper 122 

Saint Monacella's Lambs, Wm. C. A. Axon 167 

Same Old Swing, Edna C. Jackson 54 

Self-Government, John B. Einch 85 

Sense vs. License, Horace Greeky 18 

Sermon in a Saw-mill, Rev. B. R. Miller 38 

Shall Mothers Vote?, Rollo Kirk Bryan 126 

Short Story, Tallie Morgan 141 

Shovel Out, Almon Trask Allis 33 

Silence in the Churches, Joh?i G. Woolley 1"1 



Table of Contents. 



No. 

Bimon Grub's Dream, Western Humane Journal 146 

Six Boys, A. W. Hawks 48 

Song of Hope, Mary A. Lathhury 162 

Song of Martyrdom, 0. F. B 76 

Song of the Hour, Fred. Lawrence Knowles 2 

Song of the Sot, Henry W. Holloway 11 

Speechless, The, Anna Drury 70 

Stamp it Out, Petroleum V. Nasby 4 

Stand Firm, Geo. Newell Lov^oy 64 

Supreme Curse, B. O. Flower 69 

Temperance Army, Mrs. Haycraft 121 

Temperance Education Law, Hon. Byron M. Cutcheon 107 

Temperance Revolution, Abraham Lincolm 30 

Terrors of Eviction, Henry W. Grady 109 

That's the Question, The Constitution 135 

Three Yiews of a Whisky Bottle, Ingersoll, Buckley., and Heath 34 

To-morrow, Gerald Massey 95 

Tower of Shame, W. A. Greenwood 124 

Tramp's Views, A, Lou J. Beauchanip 31 

Twistmg and Turning, Eev. P. J. Bull 46 

Unfortunate Trellis, John G. Woolley 44 

Vessel in Danger, Bev. Dr. Wm. H. Boole 36 

Victor, The, M. A. Holt 19 

Voice of a Star, Will Carleion 168 

Voice of Science, Br. B. W. Richardson 118 

Vot der Voomans haf Ton, Jennie Fleming 24 

Voting vs. Resolving, J. W. Rowe 47 

Wanted — A Boy, Indiana Phalanx 159 

Wanted —True Men, The Quest 136 

War God, The, Alice May Douglas 165 

Warning, Edmund Burke 89 

Weakness of Local Option, Belle Kearney 133 

What Do You Care ? /. F. B. Tinling 71 

What is Faith ? John B. Gough 105 

What J. M. B. Thinks, Katharine Lente Stevenson 50 

What will the Farmer Do ? The Voice 116 

Which are You ? Ella Wheeler Wilcox 92 

WhiskyDeacon, Rev. P. J. Bull 84 

White Heat, Rev. J. C. Fernald 169 

White Ribbon Army? Marian W. Hvbbard 117 

White Ribbon Banner, Kate Lunden 156 

Why ? Hattie Horner Louthan 68 

Woman's Answer, A, Mary T. Lathrap 143 

Woman's Hour, Mary T. Lathrap 170 

Word to the Y's, Frances J. Barnes 115 

Worried About Katherine, Will Carleton 59 



LIST OF AUTHORS. 



No. 

Ackerman, Jessie A 128 

AUis, Almon Trask 33 

Ashenhurst, J. J 52 

Axon, Wm. C. A 167 

Bailey, Mrs L. E 145 

Baker, Helen Josephine 15 

Barnes, Frances J 115 

Beauchamp, Lou J 31 

Beecher, Henry Ward 10, 45 

Boole, Rev.' tirV Wm."H.' .' .' ."S6* 77. 1£8 

Brooks, Wm. Grant 87 

Brown, Mattie McClellan 1 

Bryan, Rollo Kirk 126 

Buckley, Rev. Dr. J. M £4 

Bull. Rev. P. J 35, 46, 84 

Burgess, Thos. H 144 

Burke, Edmund 69 

Carleton, Will 59, 168 

Chace, E. H 123 

Chapin, Rev. Dr. E. 11 Ill 

CM 134 

Cook, Rev. Joseph S7 

Crocker, HsKriet Prancene 151 

Cutcheon, Hon, Byron M 107 

Deems, Rev. Dr. Chas. F 113 

Dickie, Prof. Samuel 80 

Dixon, Rev. Thos 58 

Douglas, Alice May 1C5 

Drury, Anna 70 

Ecob, Rev. Dr. J. n 42 

Femaid, Mrs. Nettie B 112 

Fernald, Rev. J. C 103, 169 

Finch, John B 39, 85, 88 

Fish, George A 53 

Fleming, Jennie 24 

Flower, B. O 69 

Fobs, Sam Walter 140, 158 

Funk, Rev. Dr. I. K 166 

Gougar, Helen M 155, 164 

Gough, John B 105 

Grady, Henry W 109 

Greeley, Horace 18, 86, 119 

Greenwood, W. A 124 

Guernsey, Alice M 161 

Hall, Bolton 98 

Harper, Olive 122 

Hawks, A. W 48 

Haycraft, Mrs 121 

Heath, A. R 34, 160 

Heath, Lilian M 172 

Hewes, Leilia B 21, 57 

H. G C3 

Hilton, Mrs. Jessie Brown 1 ..2 

Hoffman, Clara C loO 

Holloway, Henry W 11 

Holt, M. A ID 

Horner, Hattie 3 

Houeer, Jessie F 5 

Howai-d, Wm 75 

Hoxie, C. De F 96 

Hubbard, Marian W 117 



No. 

Hunt, Mary H 106 

IngersoU, Robert G 34 

Ireland, Archbishop John 22. 40 

Jackson, Edna C 54, 120 

Jones, Eva 148 

" Josiah Allen's Wife " 74 

Kearney, Belle i;.3, 150 

Kingsley, Rev. Chas. R 129 

Kitchel, Mrs. N. S 110 

Knowles, Fred Lawrence 2 

Landon, Ruf us C 41 

Laicom, Lucy 51 

Lathbury, Mary A 162 

Lathrap, Mary T 104, 108, 14.3, 170 

Lee, Mrs. Harrison 66 

Lincoln, Abraham , 80 

Longfellow, H. W 125 

Louthan, Hattie Horner . .25, 55, 68, 99 

Lovejoy, Geo. Newell, 64 

Lovell, Mrs. Mary F 100 

Lowell, James Russell 81 

Ludlow, Lorin , 65 

Lunden, Kate 156 

McKay, H. G 6 

Massey, Gerald G5 

Mayfield, Eleanor 17 

Mead, Leon 27 

Meriwether, Lide 78 

Miller, Rev. D. R, 38 

Morehouse, A 102 

Morgan, Tallie 141, 157,163 

Morris, Charles 8 82 

Nasby, Petroleum V 4 

O. F. B 76 

Ostrander, Fannie E 29 

Phillips, Wendell 20, 101 

Powderly, T. V 94 

Richardson, Dr. B. W 118 

Riley, James Whitcomb 131 

Rolfe, Mrs. A. A 13 

Rowe, J, W 47 

St. John, John P 56 

Sanders, Prof. Chas. W 62 

Spencer, Carl 92 

Spencer, Caroline 147 

Stetson, Charlotte Perkins S3 

Stevenson, Katherine Lente 50 

Stikeleather, L. A. E 7 

Sumner, Chas 8, 14 

Talmage, T. DeWitt 67 

Thomas, John Lloyd 83 

Tinling, I. F. B 71 

Underbill, Maria L 61 

Wayland, Francis 90 

Wells, Amos ~. . . 127 

Wheeler, E. J 9, 12, 2.S 139 

Whittier, J. G 43, 137, 154 

Wilcox, Ella Wheeler 92 

Willard, Frances E 114 

Winter, Mabel R 73 

Woolley, John G.. . .16, 44, 60, 153, 172 



PLATFORM PEARLS. 



1. EXPRESSION.* 

Great powers of thought can not be satisfied with crude forms 
of expression. The best workmanship, like the highest art, 
traces its incentives to the same potency. The supreme end 
of all genius as well as art, is expression. The inspiration 
of the poet, the infatuation of the scientist, the devotion of 
the sculptor, the thrill of the musician, the ardor of the archi- 
tect, as well as the fervor and fire of the orator, are moved by 
the same inner relation to nature, to truth, and to God. All 
their passions are begotten of soul-germs, vitalizing energies 
of life. All great deeds are born of that imperative power 
which moves men and nations to creative expressions. 

Some have found their prize in the painting of immortal 
pictures that hang on the soul- walls of time immemorial. Some 
in marbles, which like Angelo's Moses and David "speak" to 
the admiring art lovers of the centuries between. Some in 
architecture, like the Duomo at Milan which bespeaks a thous- 
and indulgences to eternal life, for twenty years' gratuitous 
toil on its marvelous beauty. Some in poetry, like the sub- 
lime Milton, the majestic Shakespeare, and the sweet-toned 
Burns and Tennyson. Some in music, like Handel's Messiah, 
rushing " as a refiner's fire," leaping from the touch of a live 
coal from the inner altar of God. 

Some find life's expression in the more material world, and 
Cyrus W. Field in the Atlantic cable was as truly passionate 
as was Rosa Bonheur in the portrayal of muscular animal force 
in the celebrated " Horse Fair." And what shall we say of the 
passion play of the naif Edison, as a virile human candlestick 
to the scientific world, a very comrade of the sun ? 

In all these, however, there is wanting that touch of divin- 
ity which attends the power of oratory. This form of expres- 
sion is super-material in a sense which the others are not. It 
works its wonders on the sensitive nature of souls, in impres- 
sions which live in conduct, glow in character, and burn in 

* Prom an address delivered at the presentation of a medal at an Independ- 
ent Medal Contest, at Fairview, Ohio, Aug. 27, 1895. 

1 



Platform Pearls. 



spirit. It breaks all bars of the intellect. It liberates the spirit, 
by whatever heretofore bound. And the man is free. His 
step isela-tic. His movement is firm and quick. He is all 
vital, " as if he stood on a mountain and was himself a him- 
dred cubits high." ♦ 

I am glad the youth of our country are so greatly helped in 
the acquisition of this power of expression. The time for its 
use draws nigh. The very energy of preparation in our coun- 
try is a prophecy of the demand for the service of oratory. 
God speaks to His own through His own, by just such public 
inspirations. By this movement the country is prepared for a 
coming ordeal. Let it come. And let all be ready. The institu- 
tions of our country are rocking in the throes of a tremendous 
growth. Dormant principles sti-uggle to be free. It is not 
every age that is called to the summits of progress to witness 
a test of Truth. God answers by fire. Truly the times are 
aglow with the dawn of His coming. Sentiment moimts to 
principle, principle to action. Presently character must leap 
from the volcanic hearts of patriots in spontaneous force of 
oratory. That day will set men free. 

The inimitable Chatham once pictured to parliament the 
inviolable sanctity of the English home. " The poorest man," 
said he, " may in liis cottage bid defiance to all the forces of 
the Crown. It may be frail — its roof may shake — the wind 
may blow through it — the storm may enter — but the King of 
England may not enter. All his forces dare not cross the 
tlireshhold of the ruined tenement." 

The sanctity of American homes mourns, with flag at half 
mast, for want of such orators in Congress. The government's 
revenue partner. Rum, enters the sacred precincts of homes 
innumerable, without possible recourse for the victims. How 
long, oh, Lord, how long? Wake, ye voices of Pitt, of Mu-a- 
beau, of Brougham, of Clay, of Webster, of Choate, of Gough, 
of Finch. When such patriots rise to speak it shall be done. 
When they command, the law shall stand fast. For such ora- 
tory is the word of life to a nation. It is the assimilation of 
thought, action, and character. Its fruit is righteousness — 
right doing — the crown of life. And this glory shall come 
with the ripeness of this period of contests. The full, ripe 
time of God. 

^Mattie MeClellan Brown, 



Platform Pbarls. 



] 



a. A SONG OF THE HOUR. 

Men of might, 
Once again for freedom fight 1 
Children of the dusky race, 
Men of every rank and place, 
^ Put the hostile hordes to flight ! 

Smite them low, 
Midst the liquor's crimson flow ! 
Back from every cursed shrine 
Hurl the votaries of wine ; 
Let them feel they have a foe ! 

Struggle well, 
In the teeth of shot and shell ! 
In the fury of the storm 
Sound the war-cry of reform, 
Shout defiance back to hell ! 



Wave on high 
Banners bluer than the sky, 
Signals redder than the flood 
That is fed by martyr's blood ; 
Let their folds triumphant fly ! 



God has come ! 
Tell it in the rolling drum ; 

See Him in his awful wrath 

Hunting on the bloody path ; 
See Him strike His foemen dumb I 

We shall win 

O'er the ranks of crime and sin ! 
Evil ever yields to right, 
Day has always followed night, 

Vice has ne'er victorious been. 

Far away 

Gleam the first long lines of day 1 
Darkness like a shroud is drawn 
Backward from the brow of dawn. 

Gloria tihi Dominie ! 

— Fred Lavyrence Knowles. 



Platform Pearls. 



3. NOT FROI?l MY BOTTLrE. 

" We must be polite," and " sometimes we must treat—" 

Not from my bottle, oh, no ! 
And some men " will have it " whenever they meet— 

Not from my bottle, oh, no ! 
The saloon may go on, and my vote may be lost, 
My influence, too, may not count with the host, 
And hquor be bought at whatever the cost — 

But not from my bottle, no, no ! 
" But all men are free, sir, to drink if they choose—" 

Not from my bottle, oh, no ! 
" 'TwiU be sold on the sly, and the license we'U lose—" 

But not from my bottle, oh, no ! 
The ladies may sip and the boys learn to drink. 
And men stagger down unto Hell's awful brink, 
And rum may flow on tiU all Christendom sink — 

Not from my bottle, no, no ! 
" It will always be drunk, tho a few may oppose—" 

Not from my bottle, oh, no ! 
" There is more sold than ever as each season goes—" 

Not from my bottle, oh, no ! 
" 'Tis useless," they say, '' you're a fraction so shght." 
Perhaps. But the fraction at least will be right. 
And God will reward him who aU through the fight 

Cried : ' ' Not from my bottle, oh, no ! 

— Hattie Horner. 

4. STAOTP IT OUT. 

License thi'ows no »hield over the helpless wife, or the hun- 
giy child. It leaves the State with the regular burden of 
lunatics and paupers. The mill gi-inds on just the same, and 
the never-ending grist of fresh humanity, with capabilities for 
good, goes into the hopper, and out comes the horrible product 
of lunatics, paupers, and criminals, just the same. 

The wail of the worse than widow, the cry of the starved and 
suffering child goes to heaven, but human fatuity has inter- 
posed the shield of "regulation " and no answer comes — Regu- 
lation, forsooth ! Can the vitiated appetite of the boy be "regu- 
lated" ? Is there any way to regulate the man or boy who has 
implanted witliin himseK an appetite wliich has taken from 
him every particle of will power ? Can you save a man with a 



FiLATFORM Pearls. 



fever in any other way than to remove the cause of the fever? 
*' Regulation?" Do you want to take a census to enumerate 
your children and say, "I will so regulate this evil that this 
child shall be mine and that one the saloon-keeper's ?" In brief, 
do you want to perpetuate an evil, or do you want to kill it ? 
If the rum power really owns the State and community, in 
God's name let it have its way in peace. If it does not, if 
humanity has any rights, if the State and the family have any 
claim to be considered, let the law assert itself, and stamp it 
out. —Petroleum V. Nash//, in North American Review. 



5. THE GOIiD OF RIOBT HABITS. 

This bi-chloride treatment of gold, my dear boy, 

Of which in the papers we read. 
Will doubtless bring joy into homes full of woe, 

And balm to some hearts which now bleed ; 
For many a man, who is traveling down 

The hill that most surely will lead 
To death and destruction, will grasp at this gold. 

As drowning men grasp at a reed. 

But gold can be taken in childhood, my boy. 

Which works in a far surer way ; 
Tlie gold of right habits, pure thoughts and desires, — 

Bright bands, growing brighter each day ; 
The gold which is sent from the Father above, 

To shield from the tempter's hard sway. 
Each boy, who wiU take up his stand for the right, 

And not for one moment delay. 

So seek for this gold in your springtime, dear boy, 

This wisdom and strength from on high ; 
Then safely you'll walk through the years that will 
come. 

Though many a pitfall be nigh ; 
For God sends His angel to camp round that boy. 

Who dares to stand fii-m, tho he die, 
And leads him through all of the dangers of youth, 

Up, up, to that home in the sky. 

— Jcssi<^ F. Houser. 



Platform Pearls. 



6. THE MUSSUIilTIAN'S VIEW. 

He was a converted Mussulman, and had come to America 
to complete studies prior to doing missionary work in Ms native 
country. Like all foreigners, he was inquisitive, and for some 
time had been keeping a prominent minister busy Explaining 
the characteristics of this country. 

Suddenly, one day he exclaimed : " What is the nature of 
this strong drink, alcohol, I hear so much about? In all 
Mohammedan countries it is practically unknown." 

"Alcohol! Alcohol!" thimdered the illustrious divine in 
reply. "It is a deadly poison, and is commonly used as a 
stimulant in this country ; but with it alone 240,000 saloon- 
keepers annually kill over 60,000 people, and incite others to 
commit nine-tenths of the crime committed in this country." 

" Then ought not these saloon-keepers, whom you style 
murderers, to be punished Hke other criminals ?" 

"Well, hardly. You see, by paying a certain sum they 
secure from the judges of our courts a legal right to poison 
their fellow men." 

" Oh, then the judges are the responsible parties?" 

" Not exactly. The judges are only the interpreters of 
the law, and are required to grant licenses to the proper 
apphcants." 

" I see. Then the prime instigators of all this crime are the 
legislators of the several States? But why do the people not 
only permit these murderers to remain in office, but, year after 
year, reelect them, — knowing, as they do, that permission v/ill 
be given for the continuation of this damnable traffic ?" 

That is the question. Voters of this nation, think on these 
things ! " —H. G. McKay. 



7. THE HOUSE THAT SAM BUIIiT. 

[A Government Distillery.] 
This is the house that Sam built. 
[The DistiUer.] 
This is the man 
Who says that he can 
Manage the house that Sam built. 

[Wliisky.] 
This is the drink 



Platform Pearls. 



(How sad to think I) 
That is made by the man 
Who swears that he can 
Manage the house that Sam built. 

[Legislators, Magistrates, Commissioners, etc.] 
These are the law-makers. 
Really law-breakers, 
Who license the drink 
(How sad to think !) 
That is made by the man 
Who swears that he can 
Manage the house that Sam built. 

[Democrats, Republicans, etc. , many of them preachers, 
church members, and professing Christians.] 
Then here are the people. 
Some of whom worship 
Under the church steeple I 
And then cast their ballots 
For these law-makers, 
Really law-breakers. 
That license the drink 
(How sad to think !) 
That is made by the man 
Who swears that he can 
Manage the house that Sam built. 

[There are 700,000 drunkards in this country, made so by Uncle 
Sam's civilized (?) whisky.] 
Alas ! these are the drunkards, 
Made so by the people, 
Some of whom worship 
Under the church steeple, 
And then cast their ballots 
For the law-makers. 
Truly law-breakers, 
That Hcense the drink 
(How sad to think I) 
That is made by the man 
That swears that he can 
Manage the house that Sam built. 



Platform Pearls. 



[Children, Mothers. Wives, etc.] 
Look at the children, 
Sad-eyed and dreaiy, 
The mothers and wives, 
Broken-hearted and weary, 
Of the men w^ho are drunkards, 
Made so by the people ; 
Some of whom worship 
Under the steeple, 
And then cast their ballote 
For these law-makers. 
Really law-breakers, 
That license the drink 
(How sad to think !) 
That is made by the man 
Who swears that he can 
Manage the house that Sam built. 

— L. A. E. Stikeleather. 



8. MAINSPRING OF TRIUMPH.* 

I hear the old political saw, that "we must take the least of 
two evils." . . . For myself, if two evils are presented to 
me, I will take neither. There are occasions of political differ- 
ence, I admit, when it may become expedient to vote for a 
candidate who does not completely represent our sentiments. 
There are matters legitimately within the range of expediency 
and compromise. The Tariff and the Currency are of this 
character. If a candidate differs from me on these more or 
less, I may yet vote for him. But the question before the 
country is of another character. This will not admit of com- 
promise. It is not within the domain of expediency. To be 
wrong on this is to be wrong wholly. It is not merely expedient 
for us to defend Freedom when assailed, but our duty so to do, 
unreservedly, and careless of consequences. . . . 

But it is said that we shall throw away our votes, and that 
our opposition shall fail. Fail, sir ! No honest, earnest effort 
in a good cause can fail. It may not be crowned with applause 
of men ; it may not seem to touch the goal of immediate 
worldly success, which is the end and aim of so much in life. 
But it is not lost. It helps to sti-engthen the weak with new 

* From an address delivered June 28, 1S48. 



Platform Pearls. 



viitue — to arm the irresolute with proper energy — to animate 
all with devotion to duty, which in the end conquers all. Fail I 
Did the martyrs fail when with precious blood they sowed the 
seed of the church ? I 'id the discomfited champions of Free- 
dom fail, who have left those names in history that can never 
die '? Did the three hundred Spartans fail, when in the narrow 
pass tney did not fear to brave the innumerable Persian hosts, 
whose very arrows darkened the sun ? Overborne by numbers, 
crushed to earth, they left an example greater far than any vic- 
tory. And this is the least we can do. Our example will be the 
mainspring of triumph hereafter. 

— Charles Sumner. 



9. the: moaning of the bar. 

Young 'Lijah was a likely lad, 

Upon a farm he grew ; 
He stood beside the bars at eve 

And watched the cows come through. 

The farm became too slow for him, 

He sought the town afar ; 
And soon again, we grieve to say, 

Was standing by the bar. 

There gathered round him " jolly friends," 

As still such friends there are ; 
He soon assumed the next degree, 

"The prisoner at the bar." 

He hears no more the low of kine, 

Nor sees the evening stars, 
A sadder and a wiser youth. 

He stands behind the bars. 

—E, J, Wheeler, 



10. DON'T SEIili YOUR CONSCIENCE. 

Let us have firm courage, kindness of temper, willingness to 
make concessions in things of mere policy, but no concession 
of principles, no yielding of moral convictions, no paltering 
with our consciences. Thirty pieces of silver bought Clirist 
and hung Judas. If you sell your convictions to Fear, you give 
yourself to a vagabond. If you sell your conscience to Interest, 
you traffic with a fiend. The fear of doing right is the grand 



10 Platform Pearls. 



treason in times of danger. When you consent to give up 
your convictions of justice, humanity, and liberty for the sake 
of tranquillity, you are like men veho buy a treacherous ti'uce 
of tyrants by giving up their weapons of war. Cowards are 
the food of despots. ♦ 

When a storm is on the deep, and the ship labors, men throw 
over the deck-load ; they cast forth the heavy freight, and ride 
easier as their merchandise grows less. But in our time men 
propose to throw overboard the compass, the charts, the chro- 
nometers and sextant, but to keep the freight ! 

For the sake of a principle our fathers dared to defy the 
proudest nation on the globe. They suffered. They con- 
quered. We are never tired of praising them. But when we 
are called to stand firm for a principle, we tremble, we whine, 
we evade duty, we shuffle up a compromise by which we may 
sell our conscience and save our pocket. 

— Henry Ward Beecher. 



11. THE SONG OF THE SOT. 

His clothes quite shabby and worn, 

And nose v^dth blotches red, 
A toper sat, with trembling hand. 

Supporting his dizzy head. 
He drinks ! drinks ! drinks ! 

And makes his hf e a blot : 
His voice grows faint, and he more sad, 

Mumbling this " Song of the Sot." 

'* I drink ! drink ! drink ! 

In the early hours of morn ; 
And drink ! drink ! drink ! 

Till I feel so sad and lorn. 
And why am I such a slave ? 

WTiy make my life a curse ? 
Why drink so much, and brawl and rave, 

And go from bad to worse ? 

" I drink ! drink ! di-ink ! 

Till my head begins to swim ; 
And drink ! drink ! drink 1 

Till eyes are heavy and dim. 
In sorrow, in want, in shame, 



Platform Pearls. 11 



In shame and want and sorrow, 
I drink and loaf the live-long day. 
And do the same to-morrow. 

** O men, with mothers fond ! 

O men, with sisters and wives ! 
You thus mar not merely your own, 

But some other people's lives. 
I drink ! drink ! drink ! 

In sorrow, want, and shame ; 
I ruin myself, disgrace my kin, 

And blast my name and fame. 

" But why do I speak of fame, 

When my Uf e is blank and drear ? 
Why talk so glibly of name, 

Which I'd sell for a glass of beer ? 
I might and should be a man, 

But drink has marred my career ; 
Has chilled my heart, benumbed my brain, 

Till life is void of cheer. 

" I drink ! drink ! drink ! 

But it does not slake my thirst ; 
It burns my throat : and oh ! my head : 

It aches as if 'twould burst ! 
Look at my home ! which ought to glow 

With bloom of health and cheer ; 
Dear ones are sick, the stock is low ; 

They're feeling want, I fear. 

" I drink ! drink ! drink ! 

Till money and health are gone ; 
And drink ! drink ! drink ! 

Till I'm lean and lank and wan. 
My friends of yore, with haughty mien, 

Pass by, with scarce a nod ; 
They now regard my life, I ween. 

As worth no more than a clod. 

" If I had but one short hour, 

A respite, e'en thus brief. 
Would give some time for love and hope 

To ease my load of grief. 



Platform PeaJils. 



But my thirst for drink's so great — 

I yearn for the sparkhng bowl — 
It must be quenched, in spite of fate, 

If I had to sell my soul." 

His clothes quite shabby and worn, * 

And nose with blotches red, 
A toper sat, with trembling hand, 

Supporting his dizzy head. 
He drinks ! drinks ! drinks ! 

And makes his life a blot ; 
In a voice of gloom as drear as a pall 

He sang this '• Song of the Sot." 

— Henry W. Holloway, 



12. THE QUESTION FOR PATRIOTS. 

Patriots of America, do you want this Government run by 
the gin-mills? That is the question of the present and of the 
future. All this prating about " personal liberty" is to avoid 
that thundering inquiry. The saloons are in control of every 
strategic point in politics. Find us, if you can, a leading poli- 
tician in either old party that dares to stand out in the open 
air and tell the public that the saloon is a curse to our civiliza- 
tion. They know it is a curse and in their hearts they despise 
it ; but they know too that it would break their political necks 
in a twinkling if they dared ro make such an utterance. 
Every "boss" in American politics, from Tweed down, 
has been a "boss" by reason alone of his control over slum 
elements, and the statesmen who are guiding the destinies 
of America to-day are statesmen chosen for their inoffensive- 
ness or positive friendliness to the liquor power. The 240,000 
gin-mills of this land, if each controls but ten votes or is the 
medium through which ten votes are to be "influenced," 
would swing a vote of 2,400,000, and they can do it and will do 
it at any time for "boodle." The Pr^torian Guard of Rome 
offering the emperorship of the world to the highest bidder 
hardly equaled the scene in this loved land in which the saloons, 
organized by counties, by States, and nationally, auction off 
political favors to the biggest " barrel." 

Men say they don't think it hurts to drink a glass of beer 
once in a while. But does it hurt to have this country run by 
the gin-mills? That is the question. Any man who cares 



Platform Pearls. 13 



more for his occasional glass of wine or beer than he cares for 
decent government, is a man who is in imminent danger of 
spending to-morrow night in the gutter or the station house. 
Men say, ''liquor doesn't hurt me" ; but does it hurt them to 
have the government run by the gin-mills and to have gin-mill 
politicians decree legislation for the greatest Republic of all 
time? 

The only way to get rid of saloon rule and saloon politics is 
by getting rid of the saloons. And the only way to get rid of 
the saloons is to vote into power the only party that says 

The saloon must go ! 

— E. J. Wheeler. 

13. THE COST OF A LICENSE. 

Little WiUie came in with a glowing face, 

And his questioning eyes showed just a trace 

Of excitement and, may be, of envy, too, 

In their sunny depths so sweet and blue. 

And he said, as his curls from his brow he tossed, 

" Auntie ! what is a license, and what does it cost? 

Ned Baker's father, he told me at play, 

Was going to buy a license to-day. 

Papas as rich as the Bakers, I know, 

Why couldn't we have a license, too ? " 

O'er her soul there swept a cold, dread wave, 
Such as we feel by a yawning grave — 
A look of terror stole into her face ; 
She clasped the child in a close embrace. 
As if she feared that he might be lost. 

" I don't know just what licenses cost, 
But the license that Baker will buy, I think, 
Is a license to sell his neighbors drink. 
Fifty dollars, I think, that Ephraim Stone 
Paid for one in days that are gone. 
I paid more, ten thousand times, 
Tho 'twas not all in dollars and dimes. 
My husband, your gi-anduncle, Cyrus Jones, 
Used to go over to Ephraim Stone's, 
At first just to i^ass an hour away 
And hear what otliers might have to say. 
But, by and by, he began to drink ; 
Oh, my heart grows sick when I stop to think 



14 Platform Pearls. 



How the dark storm gathered as time went by, 
Till no light was left in my life's dull sky. 
Slowly hope was crushed, for never more 
Could I trust and believe as I did before. 

"But there were the children, Bessie and Jack, , 
And I hoped for a time they might win him back. 
Sometimes remorse would o'er him sweep, 
And he'd promise while I would pray and weep 
That for the sake of those children and me 
He would be the man that he used to be ; 
And that meant much — never prouder wife 
Than I till that license wrecked my life. 
But the promise was broken, and day by day 
The darkness grew denser about my way. 
His love seemed a thing of the long ago. 
And at last one day he struck me a blow. 
Years have passed since then ; but on my brow 
I seem to feel it burning now. 
Joy and gladness were long since fled, 
Hope in my heart lay crushed and dead, 
And when he struck me that bitter blow 
The last faint spark of love died, too. 
He died very soon in a drunken spree ; 
I was almost glad, for it set me free. 
My very life was wrapped up in Jack — 
Sure he could not follow his father's track ; 
But, ere I knew it, my brave bright son 
Was a slave to that license of Eplii*aim Stone. 
Oh, WiUie ! my darling ! I can not tell 
How the night of horror over me fell, 
And storm-clouds gathered thick and fast 
O'er my helpless head, till they broke at last, 
And my beautiful boy was brought home dead — 
' Slain by a comrade's hand,' they said. 
Over there in the shadows dark and deep 
He lies, while I still live and weep. 

" And Bessie, you say : Well, there came to our place 
A gay young man with a handsome face. 
He was bright and pleasant and winning, too — 
Such as girls are apt to fancy, you know. 
I begged and pleaded ; for it was known 
He liked the tavern of Ephraim Stone. 



Pi^ATFORM Pearls. 15 



Twas all in vain — these tears will start ; 
She married him — and — he broke her heart. 
Scarce two years and she lay at rest, 
With my only grandchild on her breast. 

"I'm childless and hopeless and all alone — 
All for that license of Ephraim Stone. 
All alone I live, and I sit and wonder 
If, when I search the home over yonder, 
I shall find even there all I've loved and lost — 
God only knows what that license cost ! " 

— Mrs. A. A. Rolf e. 

11. OUR WA.TCH\rORI> — UNION.* 

Thus far the friends of freedom have been divided. 
Union, then, must be our watchword — union among men of 
all parties. By such union we consolidate an opposition which 
must prevail. 

Let me call upon you, then, men of all parties, "Whigs and 
Democrats, or however named, to come forward and join in a 
common cause. Let us all leave the old organizations and 
come together. In the crisis before us, it becomes us to forget 
past differences and those names which have been the signal of 
strife, only remembering our duties. When the fire-beU rings 
at midnight, we ask not if it be Whigs or Democrats who join 
us to extinguish the flames ; nor do we make any such inquiry 
in selecting our leader then. To the "strongest arm and the 
most generous soul we defer at once. To him we commit the 
direction of the engine. His hand grasps the pipe to pour the 
water upon the raging conflagration. So must we do now. 
Our leader must be the man who is the ablest and surest rep- 
resentative of the principles to which we are pledged. 

Let Massachusetts, nurse of the men and principles that 
made our earUest revolution, vow herself anew to her early 
faith . . . the whole comprehended in that sublime relation of 
Christianity, the Brotherhood of Man. 

In the contemplation of these great interests, the intrigues 
of party, the machinations of politicians, the combinations of 
office-seekers, all pass from sight. Politics and morals, no 
longer divorced from each other, become one and inseparable 
in the holy wedlock of Christian sentiment. Such a union ele- 
* From an address delivered at Worcester, June i28, 1848. 



16 Platform Pearls. 



vates politics, while it gives a new sphere to morals. PoUtical 
discussions have a grandeur which they never before assumed. 
Released from topics which concern only the selfish squabble 
for gain, and are often independent of morals, they come home 
to the heart and conscience. A novel force passes into the con- 
tests of party, breathing into them the breath of a new life — of 
Hope, Progress, Justice, Humanity. — Charles Sumner. 



15. THE BABY SHOES. 

'Twas last month in camp ; us fellers 

Had been haulin' logs f er days, 
When there came a roarin' blizzard — 

Not with 'commodatin' ways — 
But a regular ole timer. 

'Twarn't no use to try to haul, 
So we settled down an' figured 

On a program we called " tall." 
So that night as darkness gathered, 

We drew up around the fire ; 
" Gracious,'' Tom said, " hear it blowing 

Can't ye pile the logs up higher V" 
And we did, then watched it blowin', 

Toastin' our bestockin'ed feet. 
Then tossed pennies to determine 

Who should tell a story Pete 
Got heads. " Come on, ole feller, 

Tell us somethin' pretty bright, 
Fer the kerosene's clean petered 

An' this fire don't give much fight." 
But he said he couldn't. Gracious 1 

When us fellers spot a man 
He has got to make a showin' 

Whether he jes' can't or can ! 
*' Well," said he, "I've just one story, 

And that isn't funny, pards ; 
But if you are bound to have it, 

I can talk without regards 
To the fine points of a story. 
'Twas last winter, boys, and somehow 

Times was pretty hard with me — 
Couldn't get a thing to work at, 



Platform Pkarls. 17 



Witli a family of three. 
Well, you mind that camp up-river? 

I got work up there at last ; 
Tell ye, fellers, I was happy, 

•Fer,' says I, 'hard times is past.' 
Came the day we got our silver ; 

Not a moment would I lose 
Fer it was the baby's bir.thday, 

And I'd made some little shoes 
Out o' some soft buckskin leather. 

Oh, I'd seen those baby eyes 
Lightin' up for months — in fancy — 

She had eyes jes' like the skies 
When there isn't any blizzard, 

But the blue is all ye see. 
Boys, I thought we'd have a party, 

Jes' with wife and babe and me. 
Came the day we got our silver 

And I started home — well, boys, 
I got off fer miles up-country 

So't I wouldn't hear the noise 
Of them fellers when they landed 

Where the winehouse stands close by, 
For when logmen get their silver 

They do carry things so high. 
So I went in on a cross street 

Just to 'scape their jolly hold. 
'Twas a stormy night like this one — 

Never saw a night so cold. 
Suddenly — or was I dreaming? — 

Came that well-remembered smell 
Of the wine that draws and chains one 

While it leads him on to hell I 
Came the rattling, clicking, spinning 

Of the cue upon the balls — 
Then the wild notes of a fiddle — 

Now the music rises, falls. 
Tempted, overcome with passion — 

For I ceased to be a man — 
I rushed in ; think of the horror 

Of that action if you can. 
When I sobered down next momiii' — 



18 Platform Pearls. 



Or next night it might have been — 
I had spent my last log silver, 

Started out for home again. 
Yes, 'twas night, now I remember ; 

Just the cold light of the moon * 

Lighted up our Uttle kitchen. 

Oh, how cold it made the room ! 
And it fell upon the brown hair 

Of my wife, and her white face. 
And the little frozen baby 

She had tried to keep in place 
At her frozen breast. I'm sure, boys. 

If I'd got there when I tried, 
Life would still be worth the hvin'; 

Wife and baby had not died. 
Here's one shoe ; the other's somewhere — 

Lost — and this is very cold ; 
Tried it on my baby : some way 

It's so chilly now to hold. 
Of that freezin' winter evenin' 

Often do I think, ye see, 
For it was the baby's birthday, 

And my wife expected me." 
No one spoke as Pete had finished ; 

Just the snow against the pane 
Tapped and moaned ; the embers brightened 

And then died away again. 
Night was setting darkly earthward, 

It was late : but no one knew. 
Just one picture filled our fancy — 

'Twas that little baby shoe. 

— Helen Josephine Baker. 



16. AN AMERICAN DESERT. 

There is an American desert more bleak and desolate and 
famished than ever Western wind or ravening wolf howled 
over. Across its arid ridges capital puffs its flabby jowls in 
deadly peril, and gibbers like an idiot about the scenery and the 
sunset ; and labor gasps and yelps and staggers and, with diy 
tongue protruding, snaps at friend and foe like a mad dog. It 
reeks with the blood of millions who would else have been stars 



Platform Pearls. 19 



in the crown of Jesus Christ. It whitens with the bones of inno- 
cent women and Httie children dragged thither from our very- 
altars by the greedy, red-mouthed pack of 250,000 saloons pro- 
tected by the law. It is drunkenness, the mauvaise terre — the 
scourge, the pestilence, the perdition of Uving men, the wrath 
of Grod for violated harvests and mercenary public virtue. And 
we have been fleeing from it, or dancing about ridiculous 
incantation fires, or drinking wine and praising the gods of 
license gold. The hand of Jehovah writes upon the wall of the 
world in burning letters : " Prepare ye the way of the Lord ! " 
The liquor traffic ought to die ; and any politics or any religion 
that postpones or ignores that ought to die, too, and he buried 
with it in the middle of the Mng^s highway, and it will. 

— John G. Woolley. 



17. THE JUG AN' OTE AN' JIM. 

"Thet ol' black jug up thar, eh ! why keep it up on the shelf?" 
"Broke — fire away?" Reckon not, sir; w'y, I'd ez soon lose 

myself 
Ez thet ol' jug. Jes' you set down thar in the shade o' thet 

spreadin' limb 
An' 1 11 tell you a leetle suthin' thet jug's done f er me an' Jim. 

"Who's Jim?" W'y, Jim's my pardner, bes' feller'n all this 

place, 
Stan's six feet'n his stockin's, an' got jes' the hones'est face. 
Him an' me's jes' like two brothers — Jim hain't no rale brother, 

you see, 
Sence the time when thet dretful thing happened to the jug 

an' him an' me. 

'Twuz a turrible wild night, sti'anger, winter o' eighty-two, 
The snow'd been a-peltin' down all day, an' now the wind it 

bloo 
A regerler Nor'east blizzard, like nothin' so much in the world, 
'Sif some o' them gret towerin' hills had up 'ith theirselves, an' 

hurled 

'Ith the strength of a thousan' demons, the kiverin' o' ice and 

snow 
They'd been heapin' up for years an' years, on us poor creturs 

below 



30 PuLTFORM Pearls. 



In the gulch Cold? Wall, yes, I reckon 'twuz cold, the wind 

an' sleet 
Wus thet bitin' you'd a-froze, sir, 'fore you'd a-gone more'n 

two feet. 

The', to tell the rale truth, stranger, nary one on us didn't 

much keer 
Ef it did snow. Up to Jinkses' thar wuz plenty o' rum an' 

beer, 
An' thar we'd all been a-settin' sence the airly part o' the day. 
It felt so warm an' comferble Uke, we up'n 'lowed we'd stay. 

So we jes' hitched up a bit nigher, an' Jim, he shuffled the 

ke-ards, 
An' sez he to me, "Come, Bob, ol' chap, le's you an' me be 

pards. 
We'll hev a regerler ol' fash — " but he never finished that 

speech, 
For jes' then suthin' or 'nuther outside gin a mos' unairthly 

screech. 

Jim drap'd the ke-ards mighty sudden, an' jumped up out'n 

his cheer. 
'* Wot wuz thet, Bob? " sez he, " wot wuz thet ar noise? did ye 

hear?" 
" Hear?" sez I, "wall, I reckon I heerd, I ain't deef, not yit. 
Thet ar wuz naught but the wind, Jim, don't you be skeered, 

one bit." 

But whilst I wuz talkin', my teeth wuz hittin' together, click, 

clack, 
An' my har stood up on end, like the quills on a porkypine's 

back. 
Twict agin we heerd thet screech, 'bove the soun's o' thet 

awful night. 
An' by thet time we's all on us eenymos' dead 'ith fright. 

An' when, his eyes big an' starin', Irish Mike fell over 'gainst 

Jim, 
Yellin' out, "Be the Holy Mither, 'twuz the Banshee callin' fer 

him." 
W'y then, we jes' gin out entirely, an' huddled all up'n a heap, 
'Ith no more sperit amongst us'n you'd find in a passel o' sheep. 



Platform Pearls. 21 



All the res' o' the night we sot thar, source darin' to breathe or 

to move, 
The lamp flicker-ed out 'fore daylight, an' the fire went down in 

the stove. 
In the dark it seemed wuss'n ever, fer the wind kep' howlin' 

outside, 
But thar wan't one on us fellers could ha' stirred a foot ef he 

died. 

Byrne-bye the sun riz an' sparkled, like dimon's all over the 

groun', 
Jim an' me, we put on our gret-coats, an' 'lowed we'd tek a 

look roun', 
But we didn't git fer — on the door-stun we f oun' a gret snow- 

kivered heap, 
'Ith suthin' so queer in its shape like, our flesh all to onct 'gan 

to creep. 

We poked at the snow, sorter easy ; pretty soon we onkivered 

a head, 
Then all 'twonct Jim keeled over agin me, 'ith a face like the 

face o' the dead. 
"My God, Bob," he gasped, "it's my brother, my onliest 

brother, my Joe, 
An' we sot inside thar, like heathen, whilst he died out here in 

the snow." 

Then, 'ith one gret cry, like a heart-burst, Jim sorter went out 

o' his head. 
An' begun a-jabberin' to " Josey," disrememberin' his brother 

wuz dead. 
I called, an' the fellers come runnin', an' some on' em tended 

to Jim, 
Whilst the rest on us fetched in his brother — our eyes mighty 

teary an' dim. 

Thet night Jim come down 'ith the fever (Thank the Lord, I'd 

got him safe hum). 
Ef he wa'n't jes' the craziest cretur drawed breath this side 

Kingdom Come. 
Six long weeks it wuz 'fore he tottered to the winder, an' 

looked thro' tfeesnow, 
To whar, on' a ledge of the mount'n, we'd buried his poor 

brother Joe. 



22 Platform Pearls. 



He begged so hard fer perticklers, I tol' him the hull harrowin' 

tale, 
How Joe, layin' out fer to s'prise him, had footed it over the 

trail ; 
At a place, a few mile up the mount'n, he stopped to r§s' an' 

git warm, 
An' the folks they tried hard to 'suade him to 'bide a bit, 'count 

o' the storm. 

But he wouldn' hear to no reason, so anxious he wuz to see 

Jim, 
So they gin him a jugful o' whisky, "jes' to keep the cold out'n 

him," 
An' not bein' customed to sperits, he drunk more'n he'd ough- 

ter, you know. 
An' los' his way, an' kep' wanderin' back an' forth, in the cold 

an' the snow. 

From some'eres 'way up on the mount'n he mus' ha' caught 

sight o' the spark 
O' light shinin' out'n our winder, an' follered it up in the dark ; 
An' when he'd nigh about reached it his foot Ukely sHpped, an' 

hefeU 
Off'n the rocks, right outer our door-stun, an' gin out thet tur- 

rible yell. 

We foun' thet black jug clost beside him ; the han'le wuz 

broke, ez you see ; 
When Jim seen it he cried like a babby, an' then he sez, tumin' 

to me, 
"Bob," he sez, "we'd bes' let it stan' thar on the eend o' the 

shelf, don' you think ? 
Fer sorter a warnin' or pledge like, when we's hankerin' arter 

a drink. 

" Ef he hadn't a-drinked thet whisky Joe'd never ha' los' his 

way. 
An' ef we fellers'd been in our senses, he might ha' been livin' 

to-day ; 
God helpin' me, Bob" he sez slowly, " I'll never tech licker 

agin." 
An' sez I, my han' laid in his'n, "I'm with you, ol' feller. 

Amen." 



Platform Pearls. 23 



Nigh ten years ha' passed sence thet mornin', but we hain't 

never broken our pledge ; 
The posies is growln' and blowin' on thet grave up thar on the 

ledge. 
We waters 'em out'n thet jug, sir, — w'y bless me, my eyes they 

is dim ! 
They allers gits so when I'm tellin' 'bout the jug an' me, sir, 

an' Jim. 

— Eleanor Mayfield. 



18. SENSE VERSUS L.ICENSE.* 

Now, it is mad, it is driveling, to talk of regulating the 
traffic in intoxicating beverages. Raise the charge for license 
to $10,000 and enact that nobody but a doctor of divinity shall 
be allowed to sell, and you will have no material improvement 
on the state of things now presented, because so long as one 
man is licensed to sell thousands will sell without license. The 
law is robbed of all moral sanction and force by the fact that 
it grants dispensations to some to do with impunity, and for 
their own profit, that which is forbidden to others. If our laws 
allowed the five leading hotels in this city to disburse alcoholic 
madness only to moral, upright, discreet, thrifty men, upon 
payment of a license charge of $5,000 each per annum, there 
would be thousands of taverns, porter-houses, and groceries 
selling constantly and openly to all who would buy on the 
strength of that license, and public sentiment would say, ' ' If 
one man is allowed to sell, why not other men ? Either stop 
all or give all a chance." But give us a strong law forbidding 
the sale of these maddening beverages entirely and we will 
drive the kegs and decanters out of public view the first year 
and pretty nearly out of existence within three years. This 
will involve a severe, arduous struggle — we understand that — 
but the men and the means are ready ; and, with such an act 
as Gov. Seymour has just vetoed, we will make rum selling as 
shy as gambling or harlotry now is within the three years 
aforesaid. That all liquor selling will be stopped in a city like 
this we do not anticipate ; but we will make it a stealthy, hid- 
den, guilty business, so prosecuted that he who will drink must 
sneak down back stairs and through underground passages to 
find the liquor ; and whenever that shall be the case there will 

* From The Tribune, April 4, 1854. 



24 Platform Pearls. 



not be one glass drank where ten glasses are now, nor one new 
drunkard manufactured where there are now a hundred. And 
in spite of executive complicity with the vote-gathering grog- 
geries this shall yet be ! — Horace Greeley. 



19. THE VICTOR. 

It is not he that proudly stands 
Upon the heights of mountain lands, 
And waves his stainless banner where 
The world can see the pennon fan*. 

It is not he who seeks to stay 
At shrines of worship all the day, 
And then goes to his peaceful rest, 
With head upon the Master's breast. 

But it is he who bravely goes 
Out in the world to meet his foes, 
And fight for right, till God shall win. 
And faith shall triumph over sin. 

It is the one, with stern-set face, 
That enters in the earnest race 
To win life's goal, as sets the sun, 
Then shall the victor's crown be won. 

It is the one that does the deed 

Of love, to liim in direst need, 

Who soothes the wounded, aching soul, 

But crushes sin by strong control. 

This is the victor, great and grand. 
Who ever works with heart and hand 
Among the throngs of weary men. 
Just as the Master worked wdth them. 

— M. A. Holt. 

20. THE CERTAINTY OF PROGRESS. 

We live in an age of democratic equality ; for a moment, a 
party may stand against the age, but in the end it goes by the 
board ; the man who launches a sound argument, who sets on 
two feet a starthng fact, and bids it travel from Maine to 
Georgia, is just as certain that in the end he will change the 
government, as if, to destroy the Capitol, he had placed gun- 



Pl>atform Pearls. 25 



powder under the senate-chamber. Natural philosophers tell 
us that if you will only multiply the simplest force into 
enough time, it will equal the greatest. So it is with the slow 
intellectual movement of the masses. It can scarcely be seen, 
but it is a constant movement ; it is the shadow on the dial, 
never still, tho never seen to move ; it is the tide, it is the ocean, 
gaining on the proudest and strongest bulwarks that human 
art or strength can build. It may be defied for a moment, but 
in the end Nature always triumphs. So the race, if it can not 
drag a Webster along with it, leaves him behind and forgets 
him. The race is rich enough to afford to do without the great- 
est intellects God ever let the Devil buy. Stranded along the 
past, there are a great many dried mummies of dead intellects, 
which the race found too heavy to drag forward. 

— Wendell Phillips. 



21. THE QUEST MAGNIFICENT. 

In the earlier traditions. 

In the myths of olden time, 
Glows this oft-repeated legend, 

With its meaning all sublime — 
'Twas a youthful hero, noble. 

With a message to the king. 
Sought the far-off city royal 

With the monarch's signet ring. 

Great the task to him entrusted ! 

Fit for poet's rime to sing. 
Else within his keeping never 

Glowed the signet of the King I 
In disguise the hero journeyed — 

Secret was his mighty quest — 
With a peasant's garments folded 

O'er the jewel in his breast ! 
And as near he drew and nearer 

To the monarch's proud abode 
He was cautioned as he journeyed : 

" There are dragons in the road ! " 

Ever watchful of his dangers. 

Ever quietly prepared. 
Ever confident, courageous, 



26 Platform Pearls. 



Day by day he onward fared 
Till one evening, as the sunset 

On his pathway redly glowed, 
There he saw, with sudden tremor, 

A fierce di-agon in the road ! 

But no turning back, nor fainting 

For his trust so brave and bo4d ; 
Never coward in that country 

Held the jeweled band of gold. 
Swift his faithful sword was Ufted, 

Strong the strokes that he bestowed 
As a quick and ready greeting 

To the dragon in the road. 

Fallen was the horrid monster, 

Useless scale-like armor bright, 
Gleaming teeth and claw and venom ; 

'Twas a long and weary fight. 
But, at last, the youth, triumphant, 

On his way exulting strode ; 
He had met and he had vanquished 

One fierce dragon on the road ! 

It was morning, and the dewdrops 

Hung on fiower and leaf and tree, 
And the sun uprose in splendor, 

And the birdUngs sang in glee, 
When beside a sparkhng fountain 

Stooped our traveler to drink ; 
Lo ! he started back in horror 

At the dragon on the brink. 

Flashed his sword, and long the combat. 

Till at last a weary load 
Bore the youth a horrid trophy ! 

" Second dragon in the road, 
I will place your head up yonder 

On that cliff, that all may see 
More than you it takes to keep me 

From the court of majesty." 

It was evening, calm and silent, 
And the moonlight softly lay 



Platform Pearls. 27 



On each tree and shrub and fountain, 

And the hill tops far away. 
All was peaceful, naught suggested 

Scene of strife or source of wrath, 
Till the youth could see before him 

Crouched a dragon in the path ! 
Long — oh, long that weary combat ! 

But the rays of morning sliowed 
That the youth again was Tictor 

O'er the monster in the road ! 

And at last he gained the palace. 

Showed the monarch's signet ring, 
Told his mission, high and noble. 

In the presence of the king. 
And with honors thick upon him, 

Forth in triumph then he rode, 
Who had borne the signet safely 

Past the dragons in the road ! 

There's a moral in this fable — 

'Tis an easy one to reach 
In the Present's hurried accents, 

Or the Past's more solemn speech. 
Heed the lesson, youthful list'ner ! 

For the Monarch gives to thee 
Gifts so many and befitting 

Solemn pomp and majesty. 
In thine eyes benignant shining, 

In their urgent questioning, 
Lo ! I see the mystic jewels 

Of the Master's signet ring ! 

Oh ! a trust by far transcending 

His of fable and of song. 
It is thine, to keep thy jewel 

From the enemy so strong ! 
To the mansions that are sacred, 

To the monarch's blest abode. 
Journey with a soul untainted 

Past the dragons in the road ! 

Thou must have sublimest courage 
Weary combats to endure ; 



28 Platform Pearls. 



Thou must hold a faith triumphant, 

Labor in that faith secure. 
When God calls his chosen hero 

To a high and sacred quest, 
Lo ! that purpose is the jewel 

With the Monarch's seal impressed I 

And however poor and lowly 

The deliverer's disguise, 
Be his mission high and holy. 

He shall win at last the prize — 
He who labors for his fellows, 

Fearing never jest nor goad, 
In the midst of persecution, 

Countless dragons in the road. 

'Tis a task divine-appointed — 

On his mission he must go, 
With his weapon sharp and ready 

He must batter down the foe ! 
Till, at last destroyed, beheaded, 

Is the Serpent in the way. 

And the Present wreathes her laurels 

For the hero of to-day ! 
For the one whose onward journey 

To the Palace of the King 
Is beset with fiercest dragons. 

Each with ready claw and sting ! 
With that two-edged sword, the ballot, 

Shall the fiercest foe be slain. 
That no longer he shall fatten 

On his victim's heart and brain ! 

Heroes, meet without a murmur 

This vast monster and unclean ! 
Brazen front and fangs of poison 

Ye must face with brows serene ! 
Slay the monster of intemp'rance ! 

Ah ! He meets you here and there I 
He waylays you at the roadside 

And he tempts you to his lair ! 
And, tho seeming sorely wounded, 

Seeming to be slain indeed, 



Platform Pearls. 29 



Yet, reviving, he attacks you 
In your hour of deepest need ! 

Monster dragon and insatiate ! 

Like the Minotaur of old, 
Claiming tribute of the fairest, 

From thy noisome dungeon hold ! 
But the Theseus, the Deliv'rer, 

From the people's ranks shall rise, 
And at last the stroke is given 

And the wounded monster dies ; 
And the poet of the future 

Shall relate in song and ode 
All the deeds of those who conquered 

Rum's red dragon in the road ! 

— Lelia Belle Hewes. 



22. THE ONIiY CONCIiUSION.* 

We thought we meant business years ago in this warfare 
[against drink], but I hope God will forgive us for our weak- 
ness, for we went into the battlefield without sufficient resolu- 
tion. We labored under the fatal mistake that we could argue 
out the question with the liquor-sellers. We imagined there 
was some power in moral suasion, that when we should show 
them the evil of their ways they would abandon the traffic. 
We have seen there is no hope of improving in any shape or 
form the liquor traffic. There is nothing now to be done but 
to wipe it out completely. I have lost too much of my time 
striving in the past to repair the fearful wrong of the liquor 
traffic. I have lost too much time in speaking of total absti- 
nence in hall and pulpit to men who, while listening, were with 
me, but who, out in the streets, would be invited by the saloon- 
keeper to come, and take a drink, and forget their resolutions. 
Well, some of us are growing old, and do not intend to be 
throwing away our time in arguing with people who will not 
be converted, and I for one am going to go in with terrible 
earnestness in the future in this war against liquor in all 
shapes. I mean business this time. 

—Archbishop John Ireland. 



* From an address before the Minnesota Total Abstinence Association. 



30 Platform Pearls. 



23. BACK TO HIS CHBlTSALiIS. 

The garden beds I wandered by- 
One bright and cheerful morn, 

When I found a new-fledged butterfly, 
A-sitting on a thorn ; 

A black and crimson butterfly. 
All doleful and forlorn. 

I thought that Ufe could have no sting 

To infant butterflies, 
So I gazed on this unhappy thing 

With wonder and surprise, 
While sadly with his waving wing 

He wiped his weeping eyes. 

Said I, " What can the matter be? 

Why weepest thou so sore ? 
With garden fair, and sunlight free, 

And flowers in goodly store — " 
But he only turned away from me 

And burst into a roar. 

Cried he, " My legs are thin and few, 
Where once I had a swarm ! 

Soft, fuzzy fur — a joy to view — 
Once kept my body warm. 

Before these flapping wing-things grew, 

To hamper and deform ! " 

At that outrageous bug I shot 

The fury of mine eye. 
Said I, in scorn all bui-ning hot. 

In rage and anger high, 
" You ignominious idiot ! 

Those wings are made to fly ! " 

" I do not want to fly," said he ; 

" I only want to squirm ! " 
And he drooped his wings dejectedly 

But still his voice was firm ; 
"I do not want to be a fly I 

I want to be a worm ! " 

O yesterday of unknown lack ! 
To-day of unknown bliss ! 



Platform Pearls. 31 



I left my fool in red and black ; 

The last I saw was this : 
The creature madly climbing back 

Into his chrysaKs. 

And still we hear, in voices firm, 

The self -same, dismal cry, 
*' I only want to be a worm, 

I do not want to fly ! 
I'd rather wriggle, twist, and squirm 

Than raise Truth's banner high ! " 

The temperance voter soon, no doubt, 

Will wiser grow than this, 
But now, we watch him twist about, 

Toward what he dreams is bliss. 
And madly cling to his worn-out 

Old-party chrysalis. 
— Adapted from Charlotte Perkins Stetson, 



t4. VOT DER VOOMANS HAF TON. 

In Poston, you remember. 

Pout six dousand years ago ; 
Perhaps it is not quide so long, 
Bud you know vot is so. 

Der voomans vouldn't make der tea, 
Der mens, dey vouldn't drink it ; 

Dey hit upon a happy blan, 
Und concluded dey vould sink it. 

Der English didn't like it much 

To see dem take dot stand. 
Bud dey said, " ve're in vor brinciple," 

Und dey stood vor it shust grand. 

Der English kept on getting mad, 

Und Shonny got his gun. 
He dought he'd dake it back agin, 

Und started on de run. 

Anodder dime in Poston, 
Boud vive dousand years ago, 

Dey vere dalking apoud slafery, 
Und said dot it must go. 



Platform Pearls. 



Und Mr. Phillips don'd gare much 

Poud dot question any vay, 
Cause he's peen du college always, 

Und god monish effery vay. 

Bud he got no vife du lofe him ; 

Und id don'd zeem right zomehow ; 
So he hunt him ub a gretchen, 

Und already she's his vrow. 

She didn't keep some slafery, 
Cause she didn't dink dwas right ; 

Und she vouldn't sleep on gotten sheets 
Ven she laid her down at night. 

Vor she knew it took some slafery 

Dot gotten goods to made, 
Und she vouldn't do vone single ding 

Du help dot slafery trade. 

Now, she told to Mr. Vendell 
All she dought apout dose dings ; 

Und Mr. Vendell du her side 
Ride offer himself prings. 

Und Mr. Vendell und die rest, 

Dey made an awful row. 
Und beoble said, " Id is no good." 

— But vere is slafery now ? 

Still annoder dime in Poston — 
Nod yet quite two years ago — 

Der vim mens met togedder 
Und said dot rum must go. 

Dey said, " Vee von't valk on sidevalks 
Und vee von't burn street lighds, 

If visky money puys dose dings 
Und dakes prains du make it right. 

" Und whoever zells his products 

Du our uncle's visky mill, 
Ve peUeve is shust as guilty 

As der mon dot runs der stiU. 

" Now dis question is pefore us 
Und vee haf to do our pest ; 



Platform Pearls. 33 



Und ven der still is ousted 
Vee vill gif der still a rest. 

" If vee can make dis come out, 

Like dose oder questions do, 
I dink it vil pe glorious ; 

Und I know dot you do too." 

Perhaps, I gif der vimmens 

Some more credit dan deir share ; 
But ven der voomans dells der tale 

Der voomans kills der bear. 

— Jennie Fleming. 



25. AN ANTI-SUFFKAGIST'S LAMENT. 

There was once a good old time, 

In a not far distant clime, 
When man was man indeed, and held his own, sir. 

He believed the noblest toil 

Was to cultivate the soil ; 
But now, alas ! those good old times have flown, sir. 

Yes, the man he knew his rights, 
There were no such scandalous sights 

As " Woman's Suffragists in mass convention." 
Then a woman knew her " sphere," 
And man held her there, that's clear, 

And to keep her always there was his intention. 

Man was once allowed to plow 

With a woman and a cow, 
And the woman pulled her share and ne'er did falter ; 

But those good old times have flown, 

And we'll surely have to own 
That the woman has contrived to slip her halter ! 

Have the men been half asleep, 

That they've let these changes creep — 
Let this cry for " equal rights " gain such wide hearing? 

And it's " equal laws " they sing, 

" Equal, equal ",— everything ! 
And we'll never get those good times back I'm fearing. 

Close the college doors, I pray. 
Quite against them ; take away 



34 Platform Pearls. 



All the high-up notions that we've been allowing ; 

If we give an inch, you see, 

They w^ill take two ells, or three. 
So we'd better put the creatures back to plowing ! 

Stop the pulpit — that will tell — ♦ 

Hush the mighty press as well, 
Close the schools, else on results there's no relying, 

And give us back our plow, 

With the woman and the cow — 
Those good old times for which we all are sighing ! 

— Hattie Horner Louthan, 



26. THE BRAND OF CAIN. 

It is true that no one voter in New York State has the power 
to outlaw the hquor ti'affic. Is he then responsible for its ex- 
istence ? Yes, if the power which he does possess, as a voter, 
is used to assist in the legalization and protection of the ti*affic. 
The man who assists in a crime is responsible for the whole 
crime. The 30,000 saloons are to-day prosecuting their busi- 
ness not only with the consent of the law, but under the broad 
egis of its protection. It is a lawful business. There is no 
inherent right, says the United States Supreme Court, to sen 
liquor. But every liquor seller has a commission issued to him 
by the public officers who received their authority from the 
voters of the State, and act under a law continued on the 
statutes by the representatives of the people. All the legal 
authority and force that are behind this legalized "traffic in 
human blood " are there by virtue of the action of the voters 
of this State. There alone is the power to remove them. 
There is the responsibility for all the iniquitous results. 

The brand of Cain — where, then, is it to be found to-day ? 
As God hves and reigns, it is on the forehead of every man 
who by his vote consents to and assists in the continuance of 
this atrocity of drunkard making. There goes a minister along 
the streets of New York City. Who is he? One of the fore- 
most Methodist ministers and a prominent candidate for Bishop 
in the last General Conference. Look close and you will see 
the brand of Cain upon his forehead. There goes another. 
Who is he ? The noted preacher in a Presbyterian church on 
Fifth avenue— the wealthiest in the country. Look close and 



Platform Pearls. 35 



the brand of Cain will be visible. Here is a third — rector of 
that rich and historic Episcopal chui'ch on lower Broadway. 
Look — the brand of Cain again ! Walk the streets and you 
see it everywhere — a community of Cains, conspiring and 
assisting in the debauchery and death of their fellow creatures. 
Cains, do we say? Why, all that Cain did was to slay the 
body ; but these men who believe that there is a soul in every 
man and a hell waiting for it are yet, despite all this, assisting 
to send thousands each year to that eternal doom. 

Oh men, men, God forgive us if we are writing un-Christian 
and uncharitable words, but if the cries of utter misery and 
horror that well up from the^ depths day after day and year 
after year can't awaken you, what is left us to do but to say 
these things ? Somebody is responsible for all this shame and 
sorrow, and it is not God. Somebody is doing this thing, com- 
missioning men to prosecute the work of hell, and protecting 
them in it, and it is neither God nor the devil, for neither 
makes the laws on our statute books or votes for those who do. 

The curse of Cain is resting on this Nation, and as sure as 
righteousness is right and sin is sin, there must come a day of 
reckoning. Look to yourself, voter ; are you carrying the 
brand of Cain? — The Voice, Oct. 1, 1891. 



27. THE COMING ERA. 

Low in the dust and silence, low in earth's virgin breast, 
Rigid and cold and senseless there in their slumber deep, 

The victims of drink are lying in a mute and soulless rest, 
And sealed are the lips that dying asked for a peaceful sleep. 

Grasses wave above them and heavy with twilight's tears ; 

The roses, wan and weary, lean over the vernal slopes, 
To hear the spirit voices that come from the by-gone years — 

That speak of human ruins and the ghosts of murdered hopes. 

They tell of the mystic shadows that crouch by hearths aglow, 
Where wives are sobbing wildly and mothers sigh in pain. 

Where dregs of bitter memory fill up their cup of woe — 
Where all their prayers for lost ones are uttered but in vain. 

Of manhood's deadly grapple and subsequent defeat. 

With one weird dancing demon in a blood-red habit decked ; 
Of merry hearts that drifted out on billows wild and fleet ; 



Platform Pearls, 



Of hearts dashed on sin's hidden reefs, of hearts forever 
wrecked. 

And the hf e and love of many a home have gone to the distant 
skies, 
Like mist that coils from the river or the incense of ^battle's 
fray. 
Oh, hard is the lesson we gather when the drunken father dies, 
Leaving the curse behind him, perhaps for many a day. 

The wail of the orphan is drowned in the ceaseless din of the 
street. 
While rivers of wine flow down the throat of the rich and 
the proud ; 
And rampant the evils and crime which everywhere we meet, 
And the shuttle of death keeps weaving the poor inebriate's 
shroud. 

Reeking the cells of the prisons with the poison breath of the 

wretch. 

Filled is the almshouse with paupers and tramps tattooed with 

shame ; 

Souls are pawned for a trifle, and honor for what it will fetch, 

And duty bleeds with ghastly wounds she gets in pleasure's 

name. 
******* 

Over the Union, Progress, calm as the stars above. 
Rides in her golden chariot, behind her chargers grand, 

The banners of Heaven bearing the gilded message of love 
Inscribed thereon by the angels to the outcasts of our land. 

And ne'er will she pause in her journey along the future's track, 
Till dramshops are changed to mansions, where joy and peace 
can dwell. 
When souls are redeemed, homes restored, and the virtues of 
men come back — 
Ah ! then will smilingly pause and say to all our land, " It is 
weU ! " 

— Leon Mead. 

28. A CASE OF " PERSONAI. LIBERTY." 

Do you know what a five-year-old Httle girl is? Have you 
one of your own ? Do you know her helplessness in this big 
world of complex and ten-ible forces? Do you know how 



Platform Pearls. 37 



dependent she is upon careful protection and nurture ? If you 
do read this short item from The Times, Jan. 30 : 

" A drinking couple named Michael and Mary Cluney, who live 
at 228 River avenue, Hoboken, were arrested yesterday for brutally 
beating their five-year-old daughter. The child was sent out daily to 
beg. When she did not bring home money enough to keep the couple 
in rum she was beaten with a heavy harness strap. Yesterday the 
neighbors, who had grown tired of rescuing the child, notified the 
police; The little girl and her three-year-old brother were taken in 
charge by the wife of the janitor at Police Headquarters, and the 
Cluneys were locked up. The girl's body is a mass of cuts and 
bruises. The case will be sent to the Grand Jury." 

Nothing wonderful about that, you say. No, and that is 
why we call attention to it. It is a common-place occurrence. 
It is happening every day. It is such a usual thing that it is 
only worth 15 lines in the daily paper, and they are generally 
skipped by the average reader. There are impassioned orators 
of various kinds trying to make the people of America see cer- 
tain evils and feel certain wrongs that they might not either 
feel or see but for the oratory. Here is an evil that needs 
no oratory to make it seen and felt. It is tangible. It is on 
all sides and at all times. "We have no sermon to deliver 
over it, no gush to get rid of ; but we want to say this, that 
if you are a big, strong, healthy man, and are helping to 
protect and perpetuate a system that is doing such things*.as 
this to little five-year-old girls throughout this land, you ought 
to go and grovel on your face in an ash-heap till you make 
up your mind to fight such a damnable system against, if 
need be, all the powers of the world, the ilesh and the devil. 

— E. J. Wheeler, 



29. COIiUMBIA. 

O grand, fair country, rich in bounteous blessing. 
Sweet Freedom's crown upon thy regal brow ; 

From sea to sea the land of thy possessing. 
Looks to the sun and smiles in plenty now. 

Of all the millions claiming thy protection, 
Not one will answer to the name of slave — 

Buried the memory of thy defection 
Beneath the sod that marks the soldier's grave. 



38 Platform Pearls. 



Sacred to Heaven, the Church gives message tender ; 

On every side thy halls of learning stand ; 
Yonder white dome upreared in ghstening splendor, 

Bespeaks the promise of a peaceful land. 

Across the waters in a friendly gi-eeting, * 

Thy sister countries send the kindly word ; 

In place of war the world's great good defeating, 
The grand Te Deum and the prayer are heard. 

Ah, prayer and praise befit thy queenly seeming, 
And both are due the power that bid thee live ; 

But pray as well to awaken from thy dreaming 
And clear-eyed reason to thy future give. 

That future shrinks beset by many a danger, 
Lurking, half -fledged to rise strong-winged at last. 

O trust it to the friend and not the stranger. 
To guide thee safe the dreadful breakers past ! 

Cling to the old, the tried and true that love thee, 
And bid new lovers prove their fealty — 

CUng to thy birthright which the God above thee 
Sealed with the blood of martyred loyalty. 

Ay, trust thine own, but bid them pledge thine honor 
In the pure glass that leaves the reason clear ; 

Let aU thy legions bear the snow-white banner, 
From out whose folds no foul-breathed demons leer. 

Blot out the %vrongs that cry for Heaven's bewailing. 
Crush wild-eyed License 'neath an u'on heel ; 

Bid Virtue rise, assured of help unfaiUng, 
And skulking Vice thy full displeasure feel. 

Speak to thy sons in words whose lofty meaning 
Shall thrill them through with an undying fire ; 

Shall fit their souls for boundless fields of gleaning 
And mighty effort that shall never tire. 

High to God's tlu-one upraise an ideal holy. 
And bid thy childi-en look to that for fight, 

Wlfile pressing onward with a spirit lowly 
And patience boundless as the vault of night. 



Platform Pearls. 39 



So in Grod's own good time thy gracious seeming, 
Shall every truth speak out to aid the world ; 

And larger hope upon thy fair brow beaming 
Smile 'neath the flag of purity unfurled. 

— Fannie E. Ostrander. 



30. THE TEMPERAIVCE REVOIiUTION.* 

Whether or not the world would be vastly benefited by a 
total and final banishment from it of all intoxicating drinks, 
seems to me not now an open question. Thi-ee-f ourths of man- 
kind confess the affirmative with their tongues ; and, I believe, 
all the rest acknowledge it in their hearts. Ought any, then, 
to refuse their aid in doing what the good of the whole de- 
mands ? . . . There seems ever to have been a proneness in the 
briUiant and warm-blooded to fall into this vice — the demon 
of intemperance ever seems to have delighted in sucking tlie 
blood of genius and generosity. What one of us but can call 
to mind some relative, more promising in youth than all his 
fellows, who has fallen a victim to his rapacity? He ever 
seems to have gone forth like the Egyptian angel of death, 
commissioned to slay, if not the first, the fairest born of every 
family. Shall he now be arrested in his desolating career ? . . . 
If the relative grandeur of revolutions shall be estimated by 
the great amount of human misery they alleviate and the 
small amount they inflict, then, indeed, will this be the grand- 
est the world shall ever have seen. Of our political revolution 
of '76 we are all justly proud. . . . But . . . it . . . had its 
evils too. . . . Turn now to the temperance revolution. In it 
we shall find a stronger bondage broken, a viler slavery man- 
umitted, a greater tyrant deposed — in it more of want sup- 
phed, more disease healed, more sorrow assuaged ; by it no 
orphan's starving, no widow's weeping. . . . And what a nat- 
ural ally this to the cause of political freedom ; with such an 
aid its march can not fail to be on and on, till every son 
of earth shall drink in rich fruition the sorrow-quenching 
draughts of perfect liberty. . . . And when the victory shall be 
complete, when there shall be neither a slave nor a drunkard 
on the earth, how proud the title of that land which may truly 
claim to be the birth-place and the cradle of both those revolu- 

* From address before the Washingtoiiian Temperance Society of Spring- 
field, 111., on Feb. 22, 1842. 



40 Platform Pearls. 



tions that shall have ended in that victory ! How nobly dis- 
tinguished that people who shall have planted and nurtured 
to maturity both the political and moral freedom of theii' species ! 

— Abraham Lincoln. 



31. A TRAOTP'S VIETl^S. 

I may be a drunkard, an idler, a tramp — 

I'm sure you would think so to look at me now ; 
But once I was dressed as you dress to-day. 

And had the Lord's seal of a man on my brow. 
I had a fine home and a dear Uttle wife, 

And a babe, just as bright as that dear babe of yours ; 
But now I'm an outcast, alone in the earth. 

My roof, Heaven's dome, and my home "all out-doors." 

What brought me to this? — why, the devil of drink ; 

Cold water don't murder our children and wives. 
Nor drive sober men out of sunshiny homes, 

To beg and to steal and to tramp all then- lives. 
They had an election where I lived one day, 

To decide as to whether or not a saloon 
Should be opened to help on the town, 

In business and life — a much needed boon. 

Deacon Brown made a speech on the matter, and said : 

"A tavern well run was a help to the town, 
Bringing trade from all the countiy around, 

And he hoped that the people would not vote it down." 
The minister told us a fee would be paid. 

By the man who was ready to open the place ; 
And the money for license would pay half our debt ; 

And he'd vote for the tavern ; he would, " by God's grace.' 

The merchants all said it would jSine business make. 

And increase every line of legitimate trade ; 
And so when the ballots were counted that night, 

The question was carried and the hcense was paid. 
The tavern was opened, and all of us went 

To the " house-warming," so it was caUed in the papers. 
No charges were made and we drank pretty free. 

And the stuff made us cut some ridiculous capers. 

The trade built up fast, and the people were pleased. 
And business looked better than for many a year ; 



Platform Pearls. 41 



But I went home one night and the cheek of my wife 
Was as pale as the dead, and on it a tear. 

Now that made me mad, so I gave her a talk, 
And demanded that she should not look like one dead. 

But she told me she feared it could not be helped, 
As long as our cupboard was empty of bread. 

It was true — the devilish drink at the bar 

Had made me its slave ; and every cent 
That I earned, when sober enough to do work, 

Which was not very often, to the tavern it went. 

But why tell it all ? My trade was soon killed — 

A drunkard is fit for no business or toil ; 
My wife and my baby grew paler, and soon, 

I found we were all wrapped in Alcohol's coil. 
And one night, while I sat at the tavern and drank. 

With the very last penny I had to my name, 
My baby, poor starveling, went home up to God, 

And only the next week my wife did the same. 

Starved to death, to make business for our little town, 

Business for men who must bury the dead ; 
Business for those who grow fat and grow rich, 

As they gather the money that should go for bread ; 
Business for judges and juries and jailers. 

Business for vampires who fatten on wrong, . 
Business for men who sell heartaches for money. 

Who make others weak that they may be strong. 

The license was paid, two hundred good dollars, 

But to it I've added my dead babe and wife. 
To it I've added the manhood I've lost. 

To it I've added this much of my life. 
Christians may pray and preachers may preach ; 

But the Kingdom of Christ will never prevail 
So long as for doUars we license foul murder 

And legislate citizens into the jail. 

There are thousands like me who still want to be saved. 
Who long for the manhood they lost at the bar. 

But I see no hope for us this side of the grave 
So long as the Christians our life-chances mar 

By working for wrong, while they pray for the right ; 



42 Platform Pearls. 



By talking for good, while they work for the evil ; 
By frowning on sin, while they license its grasp ; 
By praying to God, while they vote for the devil. 

— Lou J, Beaiicliamp, 



32. A RED NIAGAKA.* 

Two years ago we had a fit of national hysterics, because 
Coxey's weaponless petition in boots tramped from Ohio to 
Washington ; to-day we coolly watch, marching through the 
land, an army mightier than general ever marshalled on the 
battle-field. An army that sways parties, rules city councils, 
controls legislatures, dominates Congress, dictates to the 
Supreme Court how to interpret the constitution, controls the 
church and gags its pulpit. This army's recruiting-station is 
the club-house, its drill ground the barroom, its barracks the 
jail, its soldier's home the poorhouse, its national cemetery the 
potter's field, its uniform rags, its step a stagger, its battle-cry 
Rum. This army enlists for life ; the promotions are rapid — 
moderate di-inker, hard drinker, drunkard, sot. Every saloon- 
keeper is a captain, every brewer a colonel, every distiller a 
general, the devil himself is its commander-in-chief. The con- 
tinent is at its mercy ; it gives no quarter. Attention, stag- 
ger forward, march ! Rum, rum, rum. Two million five 
hundred thousand drunkards are on their funeral march ; past 
home, past honor, past hope ; over the blighted lives of wife 
and child ; over the graves of broken-hearted mothers ; down, 
down to a drunkard's death and a drunkard's hell. 

The saloon says it is a profit to the nation ; it pays $200,- 
000,000 a year for Hcense ; the nation pays $2,000,000,000 for 
liquor. It returns eight cents of every dollar it is Ucensed to 
steal. It also returns 25,000 lunatics, 50,000 paupers, and 
enough criminals to fill 50 penitentiaries and 2,000 jails. The 
nation has to pay $5,000,000 to support its lunatics ; $10,000,000 
for its paupers ; $200,000,000 for its criminals. It loses the value 
of tens of thousands of men slain and hundreds of thousands 
rendered idle. Has it not a right then to say whether the 
saloon should be allowed to carry on this lunatic-pauper crimi- 
nal manufacturing company ? Is the liquor-dealer's right to 
get rich paramount to a drunkard's right to life, to his wife's 

* Prize oration in the college contest at the National Prohibition Convention, 
Pittsburg, May 26, 1896. 



Platform Pearls. 43 



right to bread and coal, to his child's right to be well born, to 
the state's right to an uncorrupted suffrage ? 

You say these evils must stop ; but how ? The old parties 
will never stop them ; the saloon controls them both. The 
Democratic Party wept over a billion-dollar Congress, but it 
does not even shed a crocodile tear when the saloon robs pau- 
pers of $1,200,000,000. The Republican party will compass 
heaven and earth to protect the workingman's dinner pail, yet 
it permits the saloon to rob him of his dinner without protest. 
It sees 100,000 pieces of American bone and sinew buried annu- 
ally by the saloon and it is silent. It will protect things, not 
men. The nation has a hundred lighthouses along her coast, 
but around the awful rocks of intemperance, on which unnum- 
bered lives have been beaten out, she has nothing but licensed 
pirates. Neither the RepubUcan nor Democratic captain of the 
Ship of State will pick up a drowning drunkard. Three mil- 
lion RepubHcan and Democratic Christians might pray every 
night that the liquor traffic may be abolished, and it will go on 
unchecked ; but if on election day 3,000,000 Christian men pray 
with their ballots, their prayer would be answered by nightfall. 
For a century a certain man on his way from Jerusalem to 
Jericho has regularly faUen among thieves. The Republican 
priest and the Democratic Levite have passed by on the other 
side. If you want to be a Good Samaritan, do not merely take 
this man to an inn and pay his board, but get your friends and 
go back along that road, determined to arrest the gang of thieves 
that have been robbing every one that passes down that 
way. Notify the liquor-dealers through the ballot-box that 
the workingman must go from his cottage to his work 
without passing a single saloon — that is Prohibition. The 
saloon-keeper may tell you that Prohibition does not pro- 
hibit. He is a reliable source of information, isn't he? If Pro- 
hibition does not prohibit, why is he so bitterly opposed to it ? 
Why has it emptied the jails of Kansas ; reduced liquor-drink- 
ing in Iowa ? Why does liquor capital halt at the border of a 
Prohibition state ? Why did Maine, after a trial of 30 years, 
make Prohibition a part of her constitution ? Why does the 
party grow stronger at every election? Local Option — one 
dry town surrounded by ten wet ones ; state Prohibition — a 
rock in a sea of rum — these may fail, but let us have prohibi- 
tion in every state and territory in the Union, and a drunkard 



44 Platform Pearls. 



will be as rare a sight as a Democratic candidate for the Presi- 
dency. God has anointed this little David to sink the stone of 
Prohibition deep into the skull of this bragging Goliath, Alco- 
hol. Throw your ballot away by voting for the Party ? Not 
while God's throne stands. Your ballot is the way you can 
help him make America better. What does He care about the 
little partizan wrangles about the tariff, how many coppers to 
tax a foreign coat for an American dude, when men whom He 
gave His only begotten Son to save are sinking down into 
drunkard's gi'aves on every hand? Votes were needed for 
independence in 1776, for Union in 1860 ; they are needed for 
sobriety, now ! Now, when the continent trembles beneath the 
drunkard's tread — now, when children in their cradles are 
stung by this viper — now, when it dooms a million women to 
lonely and unpitied martyrdom. 

A river of rum, a mountain of gold, a cloud of tears, a bou- 
levard of broken hearts, a red Niagara, down which the best 
blood of the nation is pouring, a valley of dry bones, white with 
a million rum-made skeletons. This is the terrific indictment 
against this infernal traffic. 

Oh, Christian men, reach out your iron arms and clutch 
with your steel fingers this foul and baleful harlot, and stamp- 
ing deep upon her leprous forehead the burning titles of her 
shame, plunge the dagger of Prohibition to her heart and 
shrouding her in the curses of 70,000,000 people, bury her so 
deep she will never hear the trumpet of resurrection ! 

— Charles S. Morris. 



33. SHOVEI. OUT. 

The blizzard had its lessons, which were borne upon the wind. 

And dropped at many a door-step in the thought it left behind. 

It reigned a very monarch, with an undisputed sway. 

And chained the wheels of commerce for a nation in a day ; 

It made its crystal messengers a conquering brigade. 

To force its proclamation for a general blockade. 

And brought to every homestead with a morning song and 

shout, 
The ti'uth that they were captives, if they didn't shovel out. 

It's just an illustration of another sort of " blow," 
Which hedges many lives about with something else than 
snow, 



Platform Pearls. 45 



And turns a pleasant prospect, which is everything that's fair, 

Into a sudden tempest with obstructions everywhere ; 

And makes of their to-morrow, what might seem like prison 

walls. 
Heaped high with disappointments where the mass of driftage 

falls ; 
But rarely, like the blizzard, is there heard the warning shout, 
That those within are captives, if they do not shovel out. 

And yet the fact is patent, there's a power in the spell 
Of sudden great reverses that may prove a captive's cell ; 
A sort of soul concussion seems to paralyze the brain. 
To bind the Avill with fetters, and to kill out hope with pain, 
And look out on the driftage in an aimless sort of way, 
Heaped high about the doorsill from the hopes of yesterday ; 
While ears are dull and listless to the voice of any shout, 
That there may be dehverance if they will shovel out. 

But, brother, if a blizzard has swept over all your plains. 
And piled the driftage higher than your upper window-panes, 
A tiling lifted from the roof will bring the welcome sight, 
That everywhere, outside of you, the world is full of light. 
And you can, with your shovel, and a purpose brave and stout, 
With sturdy and persistent work, soon tunnel your way out ; 
But if you wait the action of time's equalizing law, 
You'll have a lonely waiting, and may die before a thaw. 

— Almon Trash Allis, in his hook, " Uncle Alvin at Home 
and Abroad.^^ 

34. THREE VIEWS OF THE WHISKY BOTTIiE. 

FIRST VIEW. 

(The speaker brings the bottle apparently containing liquor, 
and holds it in his hand during his recitation ; then places it on 
the table, and steps to one side of the platform.) 

I bring you some of the most wonderful whisky that ever 
drove the skeleton from the feast, or painted landscapes in the 
brain of man. It is the mingled souls of wheat and corn. In 
it you will find the sunshine and the shadow that chased each 
other over the billowy fields ; the breath of June, the carol of 
the lark, the dews of night, the wealth of summer and au- 
tumn's rich content, all golden with imprisoned light. Drink 
it, and you will hear the voices of men and maidens singing 
"Harvest Home," mingled with the laughter of children. 



46 Platform Pearls. 



Drink it, and you will feel within your blood the startled dawns, 
the dreamy, ta^vny dusks of many perfect days. For forty 
years this liquid joy has been witliin the happy staves of oak 
longing to kiss the lips of man. — Robert G. Ingersoll. 

SECOND VIEW. 

(This speaker takes the bottle from the table and holds it in 
his hand during his recitation ; then replaces it upon the table, 
and joins first speaker.) 

I bring you some of the most wonderful whisky that ever 
brought a skeleton into the closet or painted scenes of lust and 
bloodshed in the brain of man. It is the ghost of wheat and 
corn, crazed by the loss of their natural bodies. In it you will 
find a transient sunshine chased by a shadow as cold as an 
Arctic midnight, in which the breath of June grows icy, and 
the carol of the lark gives place to the foreboding cry of the 
raven. 

Drink it, and you shall have "woe," " sorrow," "babbling," 
and "wounds without cause"; "your eyes shall behold 
strange women," and "your heart shall utter perverse things." 
Drink it deep, and you shaU hear the voices of demons shriek- 
ing, of women wailing, and worse than orphaned childi-en 
mourning the loss of a father who yet lives. Drink it deep and 
long, and serpents will hiss in your ears, coil themselves about 
your neck, and seize you with their fangs ; for " at the last it 
biteth like a serpent and stingeth like an adder." For forty 
years this liquid death has been within staves of oak, harmless 
there as purest water. I bring it to you that you may "put an 
enemy in your mouth to steal away your brains," and yet I call 
myself your friend. — J. M. Buckley, D.D. 

THIRD VIEW. 

(This speaker advances to the table, wi-aps the bottle in a 
paper representing a ballot and holds the package in his hand 
at the beginning of his recitation, but soon unwraps it and re- 
places the bottle upon the table, while holding the ballot up 
repeatedly before the audience.) 

I show you a bottle of licensed whisky in the foul embraces 
of its creator, a license party ballot — just such a ballot as the 
foregoing speakers sweetly unite in voting. 

It is the most wonderful ballot that ever consented when 
sinners enticed. It is the sheet-music of coiled vipers hissing, 



Platform Pearls. 47 



" Vote for splendid sin, and thou slialt not surely die ! " It is the 
mingled souls of Judas and Ananias, of Pilate and the strange 
woman. It is the inscription from the portals of the temple 
of mercenary politics : "Abandon conscience, all ye who enter 
here ! " ' 

In this ballot you will find the gloom of midnight, full of all 
nameless horrors, and the glare of the pit, revealing the tempted 
and fallen. Vote it straight, and you multiply this bottle by 
millions all over our land. Whatever ills that bottle holds, this 
wicked ballot unseals and pours in wrath over happy homes 
and prosperous hamlets, withering them as by a blast from the 
pit. 

Vote it steadily against conscience and prayers, and you 
breed rings here, and mobs there, and Tammanys elsewhere ; 
and when the cover is lifted anywhere, you find scrolls bearing 
the names of deacons, and vestrymen, and stewards, and teach- 
ers, all calling for the open bottle in new neighborhoods. 

For 30 years this license-party ballot has been electing "its 
perennial but nameless candidate, the saloon." For thirty 
years it has transformed our election day from a holy day of 
patriotism into a saturnalia of crime, a wild orgy of debauch- 
ery For 30 years the rustle of these ballots into our Govern- 
ment has kept time with the rustle of departing angel-wings of 
purity, honor, patriotism, piety, and home-life from our land. 

Take this ballot with all its foul record. Vote it, in spite of 
everything. Cling to it on your death-bed ; carry it in your 
bony clutch to your God. Justify it there, if you dare ! Plead 
your puny party policies ; whimper that you did not intend the 
known inevitable result of your wicked deeds, if you can — but 
do not insult a sham-hating- God by saying, "I thought that 
ballot right." —A.B. Heath. 



35. EXACTIiY OF A SIZE. 

Have you seen a sort of puzzle, 

They are giving at the store ? 
Two little cardboard pieces 

Three inches long, or more ; 
So shaped with curves and angles, 

Almost any one would swear 
That this ticket here is larger 

Than its fellow over there ; 
But 'tis simply an illusion 



48 Platform Pearls. 



That deceives the best of eyes, 
You put 'em both together 
They're exactly of a size. 

You have seen the two old parties, 

There is not a doubt of that ; 
The woolly-eyed Republican 

And moss-grown Democrat ; 
With histories so different, 

They stand out, side by side, 
One looking pusillanimous, 

The other grand and wide ; 
But, appearance is deceiving, 

And, to your great surprise, 
You put 'em both together, 

They're exactly of a size. 

These parties build their platforms 

Of old worm-eaten planks, 
Expressing, quite ambiguously. 

Anathemas and thanks 
On ill-assorted entities 

From silver down to sin. 
All worded most adroitly 

To draw the voters in ; 
There seems to be some difference, 

But if you're sharp and wise, 
You put 'em both together. 

They're exactly of a size. 

And then, how soon there follow 

The candidates of each. 
To fill the streets with torchlights, 

The atmosphere with speech, 
To tickle all the rabble 

"With their antiquated straws. 
And crack old mildewed chestnuts 

'Mid the wildest of applause ; 
You think they differentiate 

Between their party ties. 
But put 'em both together. 

They're exactly of a size. 



Platform Pearls. 



Is not this the greatest puzzle, 

Yes, the most satanic game, 
That things can look so different, 

And yet be just the same? 
That Christians are so blinded 

As never to compare 
The license that they sanction 

With the whisky that they share I 
Let us leave the league unholy, 

And combat it till it dies ! 
For, you put 'em both together, 

They're exactly of a size. 

—Rev. P. J. Bull. 

36. A VESSEL IN DANOER. 

That vessel in danger is our National Prohibition Temperance 
ship. Caught between the teeth of the legalized rum traffic of the 
State, and the consistent and intelligent temperance (moderate 
drinking) of the church. Just in the harbor of victory, the 
fierce winds of opposition seek to drive this gallant bark, heavily 
freighted with the lives of millions, on to the dreadful breakers. 
Many anchors have been cast out from bow and stem, to hold 
the good ship. Sons of Temperance, Rechabites, Good Tem- 
plars, Daughters of Temperance, Drunkard's Pledge, Holly 
Inns, Reading Rooms, etc., etc. ; all of which were good anchors 
in ordinary weather, but in the present dread storm their cables 
are too short, and their "flukes" don't bed in the soil deep 
enough. 

No ! with all these, the good ship has drifted. Something 
better is needed ! What is it ? The single anchor of Prayer, 
and the long cable of faith and works in alternate links. 
"Praying with all supplication in the spirit"; "the effectual 
fervent prayer"; " praying without ceasing." '^ That anchor 
holds I " says Tennyson. Yes, it does : prayer takes hold on 
God's power as with the grip of a giant. And the cable of 
faith and works is strong and long. "Have faith in God"; 
" all things are possible to him that believeth "; " ask what ye 
will in my name"; "be not weary in well-doing, for in due 
season ye shall reap if ye faint not "; " knowing that your labor 
is not in vain in the Lord." The Woman's Christian Temper- 
ance Union in our land is the call of God to all who are work- 
ing for the deliverance of our country from the curse of the 



50 Platform Pearls. 



slavery of rum, to acknowledge Him as the leader in this cru- 
sade ; to put no confidence in the flesh, but by prayer, look for 
wisdom and victory from Him ; to exercise strong faith, con- 
tinuous confidence, that by His right arm shall the dreadful 
foe be overthrown ; and to work mightily in the strength of 
this faith for the closing up of the halls of death, the saloons of 
the murderers of their brothers, and for the perpetual prohibi- 
tion of the infamous traffic. With that anchor, and this cable, 
the ship will stand the storm ; upon her strong sides the ele- 
ments will exhaust their rage in vain. " We will not fear, 
tho the earth be removed, and the mountains be earned into 
the midst of the sea ; tho the waters thereof roar and be 
troubled, tho the mountains shake with the sweUing thereof. 
The Lord of hosts is with us ; the God of Jacob is our refuge." 
The sun shall burst forth in beauty and glory over the dark 
abyss; the good ship, ''Perpetual Prohibition," spreading all 
sail, shall stand up the harbor of victory and cast her ' ' head 
lines " over the pier-head of National Emancipation from the 
slavery of the rum-power. — Rev. Wm. H. Boole, D.D. 



37. FAITH AND lilBERTlT WITH L.0CKE:I> HANDS.* 

The Statue of Liberty at the New York gates of the ocean 
and the Statue of Faith on the Plymouth shore are sisters. I 
never pass through New York Harbor or visit Plymouth Rock 
without seeming to hear the two statues converse with each 
other. The Statue of Liberty I always overhear repeating 
Webster's aspiration : '' Liberty and union, now and forever, 
one and inseparable ! " And the Statue of Faith replies : " Lib- 
erty and union, now and forever, one and inseparable; but 
these are possible only to a people whose God is the Lord." 
And to-day I hear both Liberty and Faith uttering in unison 
the words of Neal Dow, with which we all agree and which, 
God grant, the future may endorse : ' ' We forbid the banns 
between rum, rehgion, and politics. But, in the name of God 
and humanity, we proclaim a union, holy and indissoluble, of 
affection as well as of interest, between temperance, religion, 
and politics, of every party and every sect." 



* Eev. Joseph Cook's oration on Neal Dow closed with this passage and 
original poem written by Mr. Cook at Prohibition Park as the bells of University 
Temple were ringing for morning service. 



Platform Pearls. - 51 



Eapt vigil keeping, day and night, 
In panoply of grace and might, 
Two stately sisters solemn stand 
And guard a great and goodly land : 
Fair Faith on Plymouth's sacred shore, 
Where Pilgrim ghosts float evermore ; 
Tall Liberty, where Commerce waits 
The tides of vast Atlantic gates. 

With velvet feet, the years go by, 
And Liberty, with torch on high, 
Saith : " Give me freedom, or I die ! " 
But Faith points upward with a sigh, 
And answers : "Hallowed be His Name, 
Who gives to every star its flame." 
" My torch illumines land and sea ; 
I lead the sphere," saith Liberty. 

"Who lights your torch?" fair Faith replies. 

" Your hand with mine lift to the skies. 

All torches lit from nether fire 

In God's deep breathing must expire. 

No torch not lighted at the stars 

Can rule on land or ocean bars. 

Join hands with me, tall Liberty, 

And so shall we be one and free." 

The sisters join their fateful hands 

Above the seas and severed lands, 

And woo the world to unity ; 

And God fills all the canopy : 

The blue flames lit from nether fire 

In Liberty's wild torch expire. 

No winds can quench, no darkness mars, 

Her torch when lighted at the stars. 

— Rev. Joseph Cook. 

J 38. A SERMON IN A SAW-MIIiL.. 

Waal, 'Squire, I see yer runnin' of yer saw-mill right along, 
Rippin' off yer slabs an' scantlin' to the same old pleasin' song ; 
An' the crick still keeps a rushin' on the noisy water-wheel. 
An' goes dancin' down the tail-race to a new Virginny reel. 
Yer a pilin' up yer lumber, an' yer sawdust, too, I see ; 



Platform Pearls. 



But the buzzin' of the saw-mill is the ruin of the tree. 

An' I'm goin' to preach a sermon while yer greasin' up the cogs, 

For ter keep the saw a runnin' thro' yer old saw logs. 

I have heerd yer say, frien' Will'am, that this cruel liquor trade 

Is a necessary business, an' it never can be stayed ; 

But I'm here ter tell yer, Will'am, that no matter what yer 

think, 
The vile business can not flourish 'ceptin' some one buys the 

drink. 
An' as sartin' as you've got ter have some logs ter run yer mill, 
Jes' so sartin' must these liquor men have boys ter fill the tiU. 
An' we bring the human timber, an' they saw it up, yer see. 
Until by an' by we're minus both the timber and the tree ! 

O, ther' is a sort o' hummin' which I know yer loves to hear, 
When the slabs are fallin' that way an' the laths a pilin' here, 
When the lumber's movin' out'ard an' the cash's a comin' in. 
An' when everything's a prosperin' an' times is good ag'in. 
Ah I but when the dives be hummin' an' the wheels of sin go 

round, 
Ther's a splendid lot of fellows that I know are being ground. 
You're a slashin' down the forest, but^ they're slashin' down 

our joys. 
An' the rushin' of the business is the ruin of the boys. 

O that buzzin' saw o' ruin keeps a thrummin' right along. 
It's a tearin' thro' the helpless an' it's tearin' thro' the strong. 
An' the sawdust that is fallin' is the tears an' blood an' woe, 
Droppin', drippin' in the waters that's a surgin' down below. 
But the mill-wheels still keep thrummin', an' the slabs are 

flyin' free. 
An' the dust of blood has fallen till it's sprinkled you an' me, 
An' our boys are droppin' deathward like yer forests on the 

hills, ' 

But we stiU keep up the timber for the runnin' o' the mills. 

You can saw yer logs, frien' WiU'am, so that when the work is 

done 
They are worth far more in money than afore the work begun. 
But for every gash these liquor fellows make upon our boys, 
There's a blood-red gash o'-ruin thro' our own domestic joys. 
An' we're all a stan'in' back of 'em, an' helpin' 'em along. 



Platform Pearls. 53 



An' a votin' liquor ballots to perpetuate the wrong. 
For I tell yer it's the voter that manipulates the saw, 
When he regulates the business with his tax or license law. 

Yes, the party wins by voters, an' the winners make the law, 
An' the law is the machinery that agitates the saw. 
An' this peerless Christian nation, with a heart as'hard as steel. 
Takes the dealers' cash an' turns the rushin' water on the 

wheel. 
Then all the mills go buzzin', and the tears begin to flow, 
An' the homes begin ter crumble, an' the land is full of woe. 
But I tell you all the suff erin' an" sorrow that we feel, 
Is because the Christian voter stands himself beside the wheel. 
—Bev. D. R. Miller. 

39. AN INDICTMENT THAT STIIili HOLDS GOOD.* 

The record of the liquor business, the creed of the brewers, 
the admissions of their advocates, show conclusively that the 
dramshop is a bulldozer, a rebel, a defiant outlaw, which assas- 
sinates business, character, or life, as it may deem best, to in- 
timidate opposition and prevent investigation of its record and 
effects. These cowards are universal bulldozers. I never knew 
the liquor business to do a manly thing in the world. I never 
knew it to make a manly fight. I never knew it to stand 
squarely on an issue. Its whole defense is a show of defiance, 
a show of bravado, a show of bulldozing, a show of bragga- 
docio ; and when these fail the defense is private, cowardly as- 
sassination. What is the first argument brought against the 
amendment in this State? "You cannot prohibit the sale of 
liquor." What does that mean '? Rebellion. 

— John B. Finch. 



40. THE FIRST DUTY OF CITIZENS. 

The first duty of citizens in reference to the liquor traffic 
is to free the country from tlfe political control of the saloon. 
So long as the saloon is in power intemperance will run riot, 
and wax daily more defiant and more destructive. Let your 
vote be never given to put a liquor dealer in office ; it is not to 
be expected that he will forget, in the service of his country, 
the interests of his own traffic ; these will naturally be upper- 
most in his own mind. Discard the saloon candidate : he who 



* From an address at Moore's Opera House, Des Moines, Iowa, April 23, 1882. 



54 Platform Pearls. 



will owe his election to the saloon-keeper will retain kind 
remembrance of his benefactor, and serve him as occasion may 
offer. Keep out of office the timid man who will fear to do what 
he believes to be right lest he offend the saloon-keeper. To 
brave men only, to men of principle and conscience, can we 
safely entrust the reins of government. The first and most 
necessary step towards reform is to reduce beer and whisky 
men and then- friends to private hf e, to wrest completely from 
their hands the helm of government. 

— Archbishop John Ireland. 



41. OUK BENEFICENT LICENSE liA^VS. 

I took my seat in church one day to hear God's law ex- 
pounded, 
The pastor chose the eighth command, which says, "Tliou 
shalt not steal." 
He closed the Book, drew in his breath, and on the pulpit 
pounded, 
And said, "My hearers, I propose that statute to repeal. 

" For it is plain the eighth command for us was not intended, 
The people now will not endure prohibitory laws ; 

So it must be repealed outright, or very much amended ; 
At least there ought to be attached a heavy hcense clause. 

'* Now I have been your pastor for ten long years or more, 
I have watched you very closely (unflagging is my zeal); 

And four I found there were that hed, and six that often 
swore, 
But, worst of all, it now appears that ten of you will steal ! 

"What shall we do to stop this drain upon the congi-egation ? 

My pay is back a year or two, the church debt's never paid ; 
Suppose we license one of these (who has the reputation 

Of being quite respectable while working at his ti-ade). 

"And let him steal from all who fall within his lawful 
clutches, 
Provided ten per cent, of what he steals from you is given 
To help the church of God along and save poor sinful wretches. 
By showing them the narrow way that leads direct to 
Heaven. 

" This will reduce the thieves to one. The idea it is pleasing I 



Platform Pearls. 55 



The other nine will be reclaimed, your property protected ; 
The church finances much improved by this cute plan of leas- 
ing, 
While all the morals of the church will quickly be perfected." 

You stop your ears and cry aloud in righteous indignation, 
To think that man should interfere and trample on God's 
law ; 
And substitute, in place thereof, one of his own creation, 
As though the Lord had made mistake and placed therein a 
flaw! 

But if it is a righteous thing to license whisky selling, 
In order to restrict the same and lessen our taxation. 

Then show me, if you can, the wrong this pastor did in telling 
His church to license one to steal, to help the congregation ! 

And if the truth shall ever dawn, upon this rum-cursed nation, 
That hcense laws do not restrict the sale of liquors strong ; 

But only serve to block the way to full annihilation, 
Then tell me if you think it pays to compromise with wrong ! 

— Rufus C, Landon. 



42. THE FORCES OF BATTLF. 

Against any great evil in a community the forces are drawn 
up in this order. Immediately confronting the evil, on the 
very battle's edge, is a comparatively small company of men 
whose consciences are perfectly clear. With them all doubt 
and debate are at an end. They have but one cry, so intense 
and relentless that it falls on duller consciences like a storm of 
hail. Sin ! sin ! sin ! War to the knife and no quarter. These 
are the radicals, the fanatics, the cranks, the fools, God's fools, 
who "turn the world upside down." 

Back of these is the great host of the eminently respectables, 
good souls, well meaning men with half -informed consciences, 
timid, conservative, inclined to calmness and particularly given 
to hard sense. Among them originate all the compromises, the 
make-shifts, the substitutes, the half measures. They love to 
pass resolutions, and if they get as far as " ringing resolutions " 
they seem to think that the walls of Jericho have forgotten 
their ancient manners if they do not instantly fall flat. Back 
of this half -con verted host stretches the gi*eat mass of the indif- 
ferent, shading off into the blackness of darkness and the 



56 Platform Pearls. 



shadow of death. This is the order of battle. Now comes the 
process. The conscience, that little band of radicals and cranks 
down at the front, keeps up an incessant racket. They rest 
not, day nor night. They run to and fro discussing, declaring, 
hui-Ung fire-brands of incendiary literature right and left. They 
hold forlorn little meetings in most unheard-of places, but hian- 
age to so stir things up that their little place becomes suddenly 
interesting, as a house afire. They define, explain, teach, 
exhort. They drag us poor, limp ministers out of our ' ' splen- 
didly null " pulpits, and when we'get down into their inflamma- 
ble atmosphere, before we know it we have used " injudicious 
language." And when a minister reaches that point his course 
is rapidly downward. He is soon shouting and waving a torch 
with the worst of them. He is at last among the prophets. So 
by degrees the conservatives are won over and catch the divine 
madness until conscience has an irresistible host under com- 
mand. It moves steadily on to the occupation of the conquered 
territory, and then follow the more peaceful tasks of clarifying 
conviction, establishing customs and framing righteous, efficient 
laws. "What the Abolitionist was to slavery, that the Prohi- 
bitionist is to strong drink — a sleepless, remorseless conscience 
with a naked sword in hand, smiting in the name of God. 

—Rev. Dr. J, H. Ecob. 

43. THE REFORITIER.* 

All grim and soiled and brown with tan, 

I saw a Strong One, in his wrath, 
Smiting the godless shrines of man 
Along his path. 

The Church, beneath her trembhng dome, 

Essayed in vain her ghostly charm : 
Wealth shook within his gilded home 
With strange alarm. 

Fraud from his secret chambers fled 

Before the sunhght bursting in : 
Sloth drew her pillow o'er her head 
To drown the din. 

"Spare," Art implored, " yon holy pile ; 
That grand, old, time-worn turret spare"; 



* By permission of Hougtiton, Mifflin & Co. 



Platform Pearls. 57 



Meek Reverence, kneeling in the aisle, 
Cried out, " Forbear ! " 

Gray-bearded Use, who, deaf and blind. 
Groped for his old accustomed stone, 
Leaned on his staff, and wept to find 
His seat o'erthrown. 

Young Romance raised his dreamy eyes, 

O'erhung with paly locks of gold, — 
" Why smite," he asked in sad surprise, 
"The fair, the old?" 

Yet louder rang the Strong One's stroke. 

Yet nearer flashed his axe's gleam ; 
Shuddering and sick of heart I woke, 
As from a dream. 

I looked : aside the dust-cloud rolled, — 
The Waster seemed the Builder too ; 
Up springing from the ruined Old 
I saw the New. 

'Twas but the ruin of the bad, — 

The wasting of the wrong and ill ; 
Whate'er of good the old time had 
Was living still. 

Calm grew the brows of him I feared ; 

The frown which awed me passed away, 
And left behind a smile which cheered 
Like breaking day. 

The grain grew green on battle-plains. 

O'er swarded war-mounds grazed the cow ; 
The slave stood forging from his chains 
The spade and plow. 

Through vine-wreathed cups with wine once red, 

The lights on brimming crystal fell. 
Drawn, sparkling, from the rivulet head 
And mossy well. 

Where the doomed victim in his cell 
Had counted o'er the weary hours. 
Glad school-girls, answering to the bell. 
Came crowned with flowers. 



58 Platform Pearls. 



Grown wiser for the lesson given, 

I fear no longer, for I know 
That, where the share is deepest driven, 
The best fruits grow. 

The outworn rite, the old abuse, ♦ 

The pious fraud transparent grown, 
The good held captive in the use 
Of wrong alone, — 

These wait their doom, from that great law 
Which makes the past time serve to-day ; 
And fresher Uf e the world shall draw 
From their decay. 

O, backward-looking son of time ! 

The new is old, the old is new. 
The cycle of a change sublime 

Still sweeping through. 

Take neart ! the Waster builds again, — 

A charmed hfe old Goodness hath ; 
The tares may perish, — but the grain 
Is not for death. 

God works in all things ; all obey 

His first propulsion from the night : 
Wake thou and watch ! — the world is gray 
With morning light ! 

— J. G. Whittier. 



44. AN UNFORTUNATE TREL.IiIS. 

Beyond any question the present effrontery and power of 
the saloon are due to the license laws. 

At my old home a vine of bitter-sweet came up at the root 
of a fine young elm tree. It was a pretty, delicate, twining 
thing, and I turned it so it might climb the tree. It did climb 
in graceful spiral rings to the very top, and the tree was beauti- 
ful. The long tendrils of the vine hung down on every side. 
I pinched off the tender shoots as they multiphed so as to ob- 
struct the path, and the more I did so the stronger grew the 
trunk coils. I planted vines by all my young trees ; it made 
them look so brave and lively. I thought, ' ' How strange nature 
has not planted vines and trees in pairs ! " I have seen ' ' why " 



Platform Pearls. 



recently. My beautiful elm is a dead stalk, with the vine em- 
bedded in its body, itself spiral now, conformed to the con- 
stricting cord of the beautiful thug. So the Christian Repub- 
lic — guileless, devoted trellis of the hquor traffic for so many 
years — stands all deformed and corkscrew-shaped to-day, in 
the deadly spiral of commercial and political whisky rings ; 
but alive, thank God ! and still powerful, for her good right 
hand, tho atrophied by long disuse, is free. The Church is its 
palm ; the Women's Christian Temperance Union, the Young 
People's Societies of Christian Endeavor, the Salvation Army, 
and the Society for the Prevention of Crime are the fingers, and 
the Prohibition Party the thumb. I see it reaching out for 
" the sword of the Lord and of Gideon." I see it closing on 
the hilt. I see the blade poised aloft, all gleaming. I read 
upon it, '"Gideon," "Washington," "Grant." O strike, Ex- 
calibur ! Cleave to the marrow the murderous parasites, and 
set this nation free ! 

It is not the union of Church and State I advocate, but 
union of the Church to save the State. 

— John G. Woolley. 



45. RESPONSIBIIilTY OF INDIVIDUAIi VOTERS. 

In every reform from intemperance, from vice, from crime, 
each individual citizen is responsible to the degree of influence 
which he has, and if he does not exert it he is responsible for a 
neglect of duty, a binding duty. He is bound to create a pub- 
lic sentiment that shall work for virtue. He is bound to drain 
the community of all those evils that run together and form a 
channel for vice and crime. It is not a matter of election ; it 
is a matter of obligation, and because there are the most re- 
spectable classes in the community that don't do it, it doesn't 
set you free. Because the man of riches and the man of power 
and the man of standing in society don't do it, the poorest labor- 
ing man in the community if he does not, under the direction 
of his reason and conscience, labor for the purification of the 
commonwealth, he is responsible to God. He is bound to do it. 
If his individuality on the one side has shielded him against 
aggression, it brings with it also certain obligations, and he is 
bound to meet them. All parties hold their members only sub- 
ject to the corrected judgment and moral sense of the individ- 
ual. If they go with their party on the general ground that it 



60 Platform Pearls. 



is going right and is doing right, as far as the hmitation of hu- 
man ignorance and human power are concerned traveling in 
the right direction, although with many imperfect steps and 
many imperfect elements, he may justly go on with it ; but if 
he is committed, as were the parties of slavery, to so atrocious 
a wrong as that which violated the fundamental rights oi the 
whole human family, a man is bound to fight the party, in it 
and out of it ; in it by correction, out of it by protest and oppo- 
sition. And merely because he can say " The party did it, I 
did not," he is not reheved of responsibihty. Inasmuch as you 
knew what was right and did not do it, so much you are in- 
volved in the guilt ; and there was a great deal of guilt. The 
church itself was involved in the same — dumb pulpits, uncir- 
culated Bibles, a corrupt and vicious public sentiment. 

— Henry Ward Beecher, 



46. T1¥ISTING AND TURNING. 

It was only a sign on a countryman's shop. 
Standing out in bold letters, uneven and queer, 

But I read and reread, as I came to a stop, 

"All kinds of twisting and turning done here." 

Now this man of the shop was a turner by trade, 
And his ladles and butter-bowls sold far and near, 

But his sign's in demand farther yet, I'm afraid, 
"All kinds of twisting and turning done here." 

There is that big convention that planes off its planks 
To please both chui'ch members and brewers of beer, 

In order to hold every sort in its ranks, 

"AU kinds of toasting and turning done here." 

There's the State Legislature, and Congress no less, 

With higher officials in places so dear. 
They are just covered up with this flag of distress, 

"All kinds of twisting and turning done here." 

There are even Church papers, and ministers, too. 
Who try on two horses to ride and to steer ; 

'Twixt gospel and hcense they've all they can do, 
"All kinds of twisting and turning done here." 

I see some are twisting and turning to-night, 
Because of God's message, so loud and so clear ; 



Platform Pearls. 61 



Well, twist from old parties, and turn to the right ! 
"All kinds of twisting and turning done here." 

—Eev. P. J. Bull 



4*7. VOTING VS. RESOLiVING. 

King Alcohol's vanquished ; 

The Church has decreed it ; 
Then let us rejoice 

And be glad when we read it. 
They've resolved and whereas'd 

That the traffic must go, 
In language so plain 

That a fool ought to know. 

" It can not be licensed," 

They say, " without sin"; 
Why, friendly old chestnut, 

Come, where have you been ; 
And "where were you at " 

In the conflict last fall ? 
I really don't think 

That you voted at all. 

If you did, did you vote 

As you've just resoluted? 
Now figures won't lie 

If rightly computed. 
Say, what was the number 

Of votes you recorded 
Against this great monster. 

So remorseless and sordid? 

I've seen an old scarecrow 

Standing out in the field ; 
It became so familiar 

That no power it could wield 
To frighten the birds 

That came every morn. 
And from under its nose 

Took the farmer's good corn. 

But the farmer came out, 

You could see he was " hot," 
And with an old gun 



63 Platform Pearls. 



FiUed the birds full of shot. 
The birds then decided 

To have nothing to do 
With the business-like end 

Of that living scarecrow. ^ 

YoTir resolves are the scarecrow, 

The old parties the biids ; 
'Tis but httle they care 

For your empty, wise words. 
They feel very certain 

You will do nothing rash, 
But will vote at the crack 

Of the old party lash. 

And you are the farmer, 

The hand is the gun ; 
The baUot's the shot 

That will " make things hum." 
A vote will weigh more 

When cast for the right, 
Than all the resolves 

You could make in a night. 

— JW Eoive. 



48. SIX BOYS. 

We all went to school together in the old brick academy in 
a coimtry town, years ago. 

We grew up, separated, went our different life roads. 

But I have been meeting my old schoolmates lately, and it 
is strange how the whisky curse has divided the six. 

I stood not long ago on the platform of the chapel in a peni- 
tentiary to talk to the prisoners. On the front bench, in spite 
of his stripes, his close-cut hair, his prison pallor, I recognized 
one of the six. We used to occupy the same desk at school. 

He was a prisoner for life, and was drunk when the murder 
was committed. 

Picking up the paper one morning I noticed that a tramp 
had been pushed from a train on one of our railroads, had 
fallen under the wheels, his right arm crushed, and that the 
surgeon at the hospital had amputated it at the shoulder. 
Recognizing the name I went down to the hospital and found 



Platform Pearls. 63 



in one of the wards a miserable one-armed tramp — my old 
schoolmate. 

I tried to talk to him, to pray with him ; he would not lis- 
ten. I telegraphed his brother, a well-to-do farmer. He came 
on to the city, took the poor fellow home with him, gave him 
a good suit of clothes and said to him : " Brother, as long as 
you live you can have a good home here with me. You shall 
not want for anything, but you must not go to the city." 

He stayed there three days, and then wandered off. He is 
to-day a miserable, one-armed bloated wretch, a whisky tramp, 
drifting toward a drunkard's grave. 

There was another, a bright boy full of life, the wit of the 
school, sunshiny, bubbling over with laughter. He grew up 
to be a wild, drinking young man, but later on I learned that 
he had reformed and was in the temperance work. 

I heard him one night, and went on the platform to speak 
to him. 

I said : " Are you a Christian ? " 

*' No," he said, "but I am not afraid of whisky." 

A few months afterward I heard of his conversion. 

Again I met him, an earnest, active, intelligent Christian 
worker. 

I said in my heart : " My friend is safe." 

Alas ! No man is safe in a land where whisky is sold. 

My friend had been working as an evangelist in the West. 
He ha4 some money, and he started home to visit his old father 
and mother. He was within twenty miles of home, on the 
train. He was taken sick. A gentleman in the seat with him 
said : "Are you sick? " "Yes." " I am taken that way my- 
self sometimes, and I always carry a little good whisky with 
me. Suppose you take a little ; it will do you good." " No," 
said my friend ; "I used to drink, and will never touch the 
stuff again." 

The man got up, went to the water cooler, poured a little 
whisky in the glass and brought it to my friend. He held it 
under his nose and said : " Don't be a fool ; drink it." 

The old devil in my friend jumped at the bait. Very eagerly 
he swallowed the poison. 

It was like putting a spark in an open keg of powder. 

At the next station my friend got off, eight miles from 



64 Platform Pearls. 



home. He stayed there in a saloon until, crazed by delirium 
tremens, the saloon-keeper sent him to a hotel. 

He was put in a second-story corner room and served with 
all the whisky he wanted, for he still had some money. One 
day the delirium devils chased him to the window, out of the 
window headlong down on the sharp palings. 

They found him there, bruised, bleeding — dead. 

Within eight miles of home ! 

At the next station his old father had waited every day for 
his boy. 

He said : " He will come to-morrow." 

And to-morrow came at last, and a rough wooden box was 
pushed out on the platform. 

The father saw his son's name on it. He had the box 
opened, and he found all that remained of his only son. 

So three of my old schoolmates went the downward way of 
death. 

One in the penitentiary for life ; cause, whisky. 

One a wanderer on the face of the earth ; cause, whisky. 

One gone to a drunkard's eternity ; cause, whisky. 

Now for the brighter side. 

Not long ago I looked down from the gallery of the House 
of Representatives upon a session of Congress. 

At his desk I noticed a man whose name is known all over 
the Union. 

The breath of suspicion has never touched him. 

He is without fear, without reproach — an active Christian 
worker. 

Another one of my schoolmates. 

One Sabbath morning I entered a church in a Uttle Virginia 
town, and had the pleasure of hearing another one of my old 
schoolmates preach. 

The sixth one of the boys is myself, a sinner saved by grace, 
living in the sunshine, trying to make the world brighter, hap- 
pier, better. 

Here are the other three : 

One an honored Congressman ; cause, cold water. 

One a minister of the Gospel ; cause, cold water. 

One A Worker for the Right. 

— A. W» Hawks. 



Platform Pearls. 65 



49. " FEED MY SHEEP." 

Peter the fisherman toils all night, 

He and his fellows toil in vain ; 
But lo ! a word, in the morning light, 

And at loaded nets they tug and strain. 

Peter the fisherman cries aloud, 

" It is the Lord ! " and springs to the shore ; 
What are his nets and the finny crowd ? 

Naught recks he of the plentiful store. 

Calmly the Lord prepares the feast ; 

Down on the shore they break the bread ; 
Served by hands from the cross released. 

Never such viands as these outspread. 

Eager Peter, his heart on fire 

With a mingled tumult of love and shame, 
Longs to utter his strong desire. 

Longs to honor the blessed Name. 

Could he but do some wonderful deed, 

Give his life as an offering free. 
Stand once more in an hour of need ! 

Questions the Master, " Lovest thou me?" 

What shall he do ? The Master's word. 
That could awe to quiet the stormy deep 

When all its passionate waves were stiiTed, 
Answers him quietly, " Feed my sheep." 

Nothing gi-eat for Peter to do ; 

Only to follow, by night and day. 
Where pitfalls are many and shepherds few, 

Seeking the sheep that go astray. 

Not with the ninety and nine to rest, 

But to walk alone in desert ways. 
Bearing the wounded, the weak, on his breast, 

With none to aid him, with none to praise. 

So, O Lord, from Galilee's shore, 

Comes thy word as it came of old ; 
Show us how we may serve thee more, 

Loving and seeking the lost from thy fold. 

— B. E. S., in " Golden Rule.'' 



66 Platform Pearls. 



50. WHAT J. M. B. THINKS. 

Methodis' women air not very bad, 

Their virtues he'd not for one moment despise, 
Tlie blessin's the church in the past's fnim them hed 
Reely brings the tears to his eyes ; 
But J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez we can't go to Gineral C. 

I s'pose that settles it ; orter, indeed, 

Purvided assertion is better'n proof ; 
If only each voter to him would give heed 
This ti'oublesome question would soon keep aloof ; 
For J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez we musn't go to Gineral C. 

Why ? Thet's a sticker ; as near's I can tell 

Because we've dun so well in the past ; 
It's true thet logic don't seem to fit well, 
But thet's our fault, not his'n at the last ; 
For J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez it's as plain as A, B, C. 

The church hes heaped blessin's all over our ways ; 

We've bin let speak in meetin', and raise money, too 
We've c'lected the salary on warm and cold days, 
Washed dishes at socials and cushioned the pews ; 
And J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez, if we ain't satisfied now, wen will we be ? 

It's true we've done all them things well, 

An' they'd sort uv miss us ef we should step out ; 
But then, you never kin reely tell 
In any new movement, what may come about ; 
And J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez, it's a dangerous experiment for we ! 

]\Iy ! how thet frightens us ! S'posin' it's true, 

Jist s'posin' we git on the conference floor 
An' all our sweet gi-aces jist melt Uke the dew, 



Platform Pearls. 67 



Till we git cuttin' up, like our brethren before ! 
For J. M. B , 

Conservative, he 
Thinks thet's the use of Gineral C. 

Better not resk it ; fur better stay hum 

An' work fur the church in the orthodox way ; 
No matter ef 't does seem a trifle humdrum 
An' wen things go wrong, we would like our say ; 
Mind, J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez thet there is an awful idee ! 

It's true thet we sorter remember, you know, 

A hearin' thet kind uv logic before, 
An' the church, sumhow, seems to hev weathered the blow 
Uv hevin' lay delegates onto its floor. 
ButJ. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez thet there argyment don't hit we. 

It's true, wen you give your mind to the thing, 

It does seem a trifle onreasonable, too, 
Thet we'll git to be bishops, all in one spring, 
And remand man ministers back to the pew ; 
But J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez thet ther's the very idee. 

We've sorter suspicioned all through the years, 

Thet the question wus much like the " Heathen Chinee"; 
" Brethren, gird on your armor, give wings to your fears ; 
There only air places enough for we !" 
And J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez God meant men to boss the Gineral C. 

It's true there has been a lot other talk, 

'Bout Mary an' Martha, an' 'bout Phoebe, too; 
Till you really would think, ef you dared to take stock, 
Thet we might be trusted outside uv the pew ; 
But J. M. B., 
Conservative, he 
Sez, "they didn't know everything down in Judee." 



Platform Pearls. 



Wall ! we must settle it, trustin' the Lord ; 

Somehow, we've not lost faith in His might 
Who ruleth men's hearts, and by whose spoken word, 
All darkness shall yet give place to the light. 
Yes, J. M. B., 

Conservative, he ♦ 

May find God rules, — even Gineral C. 

— Katharine Lente Stevenson, 



51. DREAMING AND WAKING. 

Beside the road I dreamed of Heaven ; 

I heard its far-off fountains play ; 
I heard the song of souls forgiven, 

Like birds that chant the birth of day. 
I dreamed I saw an angel come 
Down from those heights to lead me home. 

His eyes were kind; his robes dropped dew 
And fragrance of that unknovm land. 

He spoke, but in no tongue I knew — 
No language I could understand : 

And with a glance of pitying pain 

He turned him back to Heaven again. 

A pilgrim passed. ''And didst thou hear," 
I asked him, "what the angel said? " 

Whispered the traveler in my ear, 
Ere onward into light he sped, 

" I heard the angel sigh, ' Not yet ; 

This soul knows not love's alphabet.' 

" Oh, comrade mine, thou dreamest in vain 
Of Heaven, if here thou hast not found, 

In soothing human grief and pain, 
That earth itself is holy ground. 

Unpractised in love's idioms now, 

A foreigner to Heaven art thou. 

" Cold wouldst thou walk, and blind, and dumb. 

Among those flaming hosts above, 
A homesick alien ; for the sum 

Of all their thoughts and deeds is love. 
And they who leave not self behind. 
No Heaven in Heaven itself can find. 



Platform Pearls. 



"Rejoice that with the sons of men 

A Kttle while thou lingerest yet. 
Go, read thy Book of Life again ; 

Go back and learn Love's alphabet 
Of Christ the Master. He will teach 
Thy lips to shape the heavenly speech." 

I looked within ; a dreary scroll 

Of loveless, dull, self-binded days, 
I saw my humbled Past unroll. 

Not even my fellow-pilgrim'sgaze 
Could I uplift my eyes to meet, 
Such glory played around his feet ! 

He went his way. I turned again, 

Ashamed and weeping, to the road 
Thronged by the suffering sons of men, 

A beckoning Face among them glowed, 
Sweeter than all the harps of Heaven 
I heard a voice : " Thou art forgiven ! " 

"Come follow Me, and learn of Me, 

And I will teach thee how to love." 
My Master ! now I turn to Thee ; 

I sigh not for a Heaven above. 
These human souls are angels bright ; 
Thy presence here is Heaven's own light ! 

— Lucy Larcom, 



52. NOT A mushroom: PARTY. 

The Prohibition party is not a party of mushroom growth 
or evanescent existence. For twenty-one years it has with- 
stood the storms of abuse, vilification, and malicious misrepre- 
sentation, and in spite of these has had a steady and substantial 
growth. It has beheld other parties rise, flash past it like a 
rocket to fame and disappear like a stick. But it has held its 
ground, kept true to its principles, and moved faithfully on- 
ward. The power of its cohesion and the vitality which it 
exhibits is due to the fact that it applies to the government of 
a political party the same law of conscience which governs the 
individual. Is it wrong to steal ? Then it is wi'ong to belong 
to a political party or any other combination of individuals that 
will steal. It is wrong for the individual to oppress the poor 



70 Platform Pearls. 



by establishing monopolies and trusts ? Then it is wrong for 
him to belong to a political party that by its legislation estab- 
lishes and protects oppressive monopolies and trusts. Is it 
wrong for the individual to run a saloon ? Then it is just as 
wrong for him to cast his ballot with a party that makes laws 
which legaUze, protect, and perpetuate the saloon. Because of 
the application of conscience to politics, the Prohibition party 
becomes an indestructible force, until the wrongs in govern- 
ment, which made its organization necessary, have been over- 
thrown. — J. J. AsJienhurst. 



53. A BATTIiE RAIiliY. 

Abolition had its martyrs, 

Men who dared to do or die, 
Freely giving voice and life-blood 

To the slaves' despairing cry. 

Lovejoy, in his gory garments, 
Eoused the Northern sense of right ; 

John Brown, swinging on the scaffold, 
Nerved her legions in the fight. 

Prohibition has its martyrs. 

Men of equal strength and truth. 
Who have kept its banner flying 

In its weakness and its youth. 

Gambrell, Haddock, Moffett, fallen ! 

But their blood for vengeance cries 
'Gainst the gory-taloned dragon 

That all righteousness defies. 

Shall we ever wait or falter 

While the cause for action lives ; 
While the martyr meekly dying, 

Life to Prohibition gives ? 

No ! the cause of God is with us 

And his truth shall win the day ; 
Hear we mutterings in the present 

Of the future's fearful fray. 

— George A. Fish. 



Platform Pearls. 71 



54. THE SAUfKE OliD SWING. 

A very wise man once fell among thieves, 

On a lone, dark way as he rode to town ; 
They beat him and robbed him and sent him adrift, 

With nothing left save his steed and gown. 
Then a stranger rode near, — " Sweet friend, dear friend ! 

It must give you a pain to be ti'eated so : 
But I vow you a straight, smooth ride to town. 

If by my way you'll consent to go." 

Then sadly the very wise man turned round — 

Sadly because he'd been treated thus — 
With thankfulness for this kindness done. 

Went the other road with the smooth-tongued cuss. 
He started, that is, but he hadn't gone far 

Till led by his guide to a second roost 
Of robbers, who took his horse away, 

With a kick for the wise man by way of boost. 

As the wise man weakly tottered off 

He called to his guide in tearful whang : 
"You've broken the promises made to me, 

And I'm going to town with the other gang ! " 

"Yes, poor, dear friend, come back to us ! " 

Cried a voice from the dense, tree-shaded track. 
" You shouldn't have trusted that smooth-tongued cuss ! 

He went — and they took the coat from his back ! 
" Oh, my, that's rough I " sobbed Number Two ; 

' ' It breaks our hearts to see this sin ! 
Come here, and we'll clothe and give you wealth I " 

He went — and the rascals grabbed his skin. 

And all this time the straight highway 

Shone smooth and right and broad and safe. 
And the watchmen called, "This road is plain ! 

Why tread dark, devious paths, weak waif ? " 
Then the very wise man smiled a raw, sad smile, 

And shook his gory, dismantled head : 
" I've been going these ways to town so long, 

If I'd think of a change I'd fall down dead ! 

" These two great parties assure me now 
That by one of these roads I shall reach the town ; 



72 Platform Pearls. 



And each has promised to give me back 

My wealth and my horse and my hide and gown. 

'Tis true that theii- ways are twisted and dark, 
And they've lied to me every time — strange men ! 

But they say they love me so tenderly, ^ 

And I think I'll just try the old way again." 

So the wise man once more turned away 

From the honest lights and the highway straight ; 
And again we'll hear his shrieks of pain 

As he meets his usual, well-known fate. 
They will boil him down for his tallow and bones, 

And chuckle again to view his pains. 
But where, in his whole anatomy, 

Will they find the things he calls his brains ! 

— Edna C. Jackson. 



55. aiJEEK, ISN'T IT** 

Lo, a Northern forest burns, 
And the startled nation turns, 
Views with wonder and with fear 
Desolation far and near ; 
Sees the homeless people flee. 
Counts the loss of property. 
Shudders at the ruin rife, 
Sad bewails the loss of life. 
Then toward the stricken land 
Stretches prompt and helpful hand. 

There's a wilder, hotter fire, 
Sweeping farther, leaping higher, 
Roimd the nation, thi-ough the land, 
Each saloon a burning brand. 
Loss of life there is, and home ; 
Women, children, hopeless roam ; 
Lo ! there follow in the glare. 
Ruin, madness, grim despair. 
She may count, if loss she seek, 
Twenty millions every week ! 



* The saloon bums up $23,000,000 of our national resources every week- 
and yet we are excited over a few forest &Tes.—Edito7'ial note in The Voice. 



Platform Pearls. 73 



But the nation only sighs, 

Folds her hands and shuts her eyes ! 

— Hattie Horner Louthan. 



56. THE DEACON'S MATCH. 

There was a man out West who owned a calf. That is noth- 
ing new, because I knew a man out there that owned two. 
And the man had a ten-year-old boy, and the boy carelessly let 
the bars down and let the calf out of the lot. And the calf 
strayed over the railroad track, and an engine came along and 
struck him and doubled him all up, and it was not worth 
anything as a calf after that ; but the owner of that calf was 
somewhat vexed. He was not very particular whether the 
' ' sun went down on his wrath " or not, and he sued the rail- 
road company, and after lawing away the price of a hundred 
calves, the company beat him — as the company usually does 
in such cases — and the man got madder ; and coming home . 
from the trial he said to the church deacon : 

'•' I am going to get even with that railroad company. 'i* 

"How?" asked the deacon. 

"I am going to burn that bridge crossing the chasm just 
out of town." 

"Why!" said the deacon, "you would never do that,' 
would you?" 

" Yes," he said, " I don't propose to let any rich corporation 
run rough-shod over me." 

And the deacon, in telling his wife about it, said the man 
intended to burn the bridge that night at nine o'clock, and the 
time came around, and the wife, who was a member of the 
Woman's Christian Temperance Union, said that they had bet- 
ter go down and see about it ; but the deacon said he would 
not burn it — he was just in a passion when he said he 
would. "Well," she said, "let us go down and see about it, 
anyway." So they started down toward the bridge, and sure 
enough, the man was there, and he had just finished satura- 
ting a portion of the bridge with kerosene oil, and just as they 
reached him he felt in his pocket and found he had forgotten 
to bring matches. He turned to the deacon and asked him for 
a match. 

"What are you going to do with it?" inquired the deacon. 



74 Platform Pearls. 



" Going to burn the bridge," said the man, " as I told you 
I would." 

"Well," said the deacon, " now I propose to show you the 
difference between a man who has made his peace with the 
Lord and a man of the world. If I loan you a match to burn 
the bridge," said the deacon, " I would be as guilty as you 
are." 

*' Well," said the man, '* there are plenty of matches, I will 
have them if I want them, you know ; there is no doubt about 
that. Why, deacon, I know where I can buy matches at dif- 
ferent places, right here in the village. You can't suppress the 
sale of matches, deacon, and I must have the match. I tell 
you what I will do : I will give you a dollar for a match." 

*' Well," said the deacon, " are you going to burn the bridge 
anyway ? " 

" Why, yes," said the man, " I told you I would bum it, and 
you might just as well have a little revenue as anybody out of 
this transaction, don't you see ? Exactly so, I am going to burn 
it anyway." 

*' Well," said the deacon, " if you are going to burn it any- 
way, that puts an entirely different light upon the whole ques- 
tion." 

And he reached into his pocket for a match, and his wife 
caught him by the coat and said : " Here, husband, you would 
not sell the man a match to be used in burning the bridge ?" 

And that broke the deacon all up, and he said : " Nancy, 
that is just the way with you Christian Temperance Union 
women. You are a lot of fanatics, always going to extremes 
in everything. It is your business to attend to household affairs 
and it is my business to provide for the family, and when I 
have an opportunity of making an honest dollar, I don't want 
you coming round and putting your oar in." And he hands 
over the match to the man, and the man passes him back a big 
wagon-wheel silver dollar, and the deacon shoves it away down 
in his pocket, ond then turns to the man and says : 

*' Are you going to burn the bridge?" 

"Why, of course I am," said the man, "that is what I 
bought the match for." 

"Well," said the deacon, "May God have mercy on your 
soul ; I wash my hands of the whole business." 

And the match is lighted and the bridge is ablaze, and the 



Platform Pearls. 75 



cars come along at the rate of forty miles an hour and dash 
into the chasm and one hundred lives are lost. 

Who is guilty when it comes to the judgment bar of God ? 
The man who sold the match is just as guilty as the man who 
lighted it and fired the bridge ! And he who gives way to the 
plea that "we are going to settle this question on a high license 
basis " — that we can not effectually prohibit the liquor traffic, 
and goes to the polls and uses his ballot to represent the 
deacon's match, and votes for a license party, and the saloon 
system continues, homes and immortal souls are destroyed, 
when it comes before the judgment bar of God, will be just as 
guilty as the man who keeps the saloon. My friends, there 
is no compromise groimd in this matter. 

— John P, St, John. 



57. THE BOUNDARY POST.* 

A vision of ice-bound barrens, 

'Neath the midnight sun's weird glow, 
A band of tyrant's hirelings, 

Hearts cold as the Polar snow — 
Crouching in dread of their mandates, 

A sorrowful helpless host, 
On their knees, and with prostrate figures, 

Before the boundary post ! 

Oh ! dreadful is man's oppression 

In the ti'opic's genial glow, 
'Mid the temperate zone's rich fruitage. 

As well as 'mid northern snow ! 
He plunders the home of his brother, 

Enslaves him ; and tyrants boast 
They have stolen his soul, his manhood, 

Who dies at the boundary post ! 

It riseth, solemn and stately — 

A symbol that draws the tear — 
A tall white column majestic. 



* It is related by sympathetic Americans, who deplore what they call the 
tyranny of the Czar, that when the convicts sentenced to Siberia reach the 
boundary post on the Eussian frontier the stoicism of the very sternest character 
gives way, and the old and young, sage and simple, noble and peasant, reduced 
to one rank of misery, mingle their tears and sighs, realizing that their journey's 
end is reached. 



76 Platform Pearls. 



That marks the Russian frontier ! 
Tlu-ough the first dim shadows of morning, 

Its outhnes of pain appear 
To the exile who marchetli eastward 

On the road that is long and di-ear ! 
Trembling, through cloud-bank or mist-vei], 

It comes, hke an awful ghost, 
And blasts the sight of the gazer — 

The dreadful boundary post ! 

With blood are their sandals sullied 

As they painfully drag along ; 
Not an exile heart may be merry. 

Not a voice awaken a song ! 
'Neath the whip of the brutal driver 

The staggering convict goes 
Who follows the path of oppression 

To Siberia's wastes and snows ! 
But the keenest throb of Ms anguish 

That his torn heart feels the most 
Is to fall 'neath the strokes and the woundings 

At the tall white boundary post ! 

He dreams, as he travels in silence, 

That yet there may be a reprieve ! 
He cannot be sent to the toiling 

In the mines and the valleys to grieve ! 
But the sight of the landmark uplifted, 

'Mid the Northland snow and frost, 
Only bids him : "Your hope you must bury 

At the foot of the boundary post ! " 



A vision of palsied fingers 

That touch not the poet's pen ; 
A story of genius fallen 

Of one who was gi-eat among men, 
The poisoned cup hath enslaved him ! 

His journey of woe is begun. 
The Garden of Eden he planted 

Is waste 'neath the midnight sun ; 
The glare of his evil passions 

Illumes a road more drear 



Platform Pearls. 77 



Than the weary convict follows 

Afar to the east frontier ! 
O tempted soul, though the wine-waves 

Flash keener than Northland frost, 
Pause ere thy soul lieth panting 

And wrecked at the boundary post ! 

A tyrant, relentless and cruel, 

'Neath tropic or polar star — 
King Alcohol — gathers his minions 

And mocks at the might of a czar ! 
A boundary line there obtaineth 

'Twixt virtue and vice, as we know ! 
Here lie the harvest-fields, vineyards — 

There, are the wastes and the snow ! 
Tempted thou art, yet refraining ? 

Oh, cast thou the tempter away ! 
And naught have to do with the spoiler 

Who watcheth by night and by day ! 
O sin-ridden soul, yet an effort, 

A prayer ! From the dram-drinkers' host, 
Thou hast paused on the road to perdition 

This side of the boundary post ! 

— Lelia B. Hewes. 



58. MORAIi SUASION NOT SUFFICIENT. 

But we are told we should use moral suasion. Yes ! but 
the question is, when moral suasion should be applied. The 
tiger springs from the jungle, strikes down a man, begins 
crunching his arm and drinking the life-blood from his very 
heart. Shall he then begin to stroke that tiger's head, to fon- 
dle him, and to reason with liim? "Now, tiger, it's very 
unkind, very ungentlemanly, very unreasonable for you to 
chew my arm in that way." Suppose his friend comes out and 
sees what is going on ; shall he lecture the man who is down, 
and say: "Now you ought to have known better than to get 
into such a position. You ought to have watched and taken 
more care." No, let him snatch out his dagger and strike it 
in to the hilt in the heart of the destroyer. Then there will 
be time for talk and warning. I arraign the saloon as the wild 
beast of our civilization, with blood-stained teeth and claws, 



78 Platform Pearls. 



still raging unchecked through our land, and entu-e Prohibition 
is the only effective remedy. Let Prohibition be echoed every- 
where. — Rev. Thomas Dixon. 



59. l¥ORRIED ABOUT KATHERINE. 

GRAND AM. 

I'm glad that it suited you, Schoolma'am, to spend a few days 
here with Kate : 

You're both of you fine- wove and crisp-Hke, an' take to each 
other first-rate. 

When woman-hearts tangle together, they twist round again 
and again. 

An' make up a queer sort o' love-match, I never have noticed 
in men. 

And, Schoolma'am, I'm thriftily anxious about this smart gran'- 
child o' mine. 

An' want to talk candid about her, with present an' future de- 
sign. 

She's hungry for other folks' knowledge, an' never too full to 
be fed ; 

She's packed every book that I know of, all open-leaved, like, 
in her head ; 

The 'rithmetic makes its home with her ; the grammar is proud 
of her tongue ; 

She spells words as if she had made 'em, 'way back when the 
language was young. 

She knows all the g'ography found yet ; she'd feel in a manner 
at home. 

If dropped in the sti*eets of Jerus'lem, or woke up some mornin' 
in Rome. 

She's studied the habits of planets — knows how to call names 
at a star — 

She's traced their invisible raih'oads, an' tells what their time- 
tables are, 

She's learnin' the words of old heathens that good-minded peo- 
ple abhorred — 

A-thwartin' the old Tower of Babel — undom' the work of the 
Lord. 

Yes, Teacher, our dear, pretty Kath'rine is very sleek-minded 
an' smart ; 



Platform Pearls. 79 



But still I can't help but to worry concernin' the breadth o' her 
heart ! 

TEACHER. 

Why ! sympathies need not to narrow, because the brain clam- 
bers above ; 
The more that a genuine heart knows, the better it knows how 

to love. 
A gem was all crowded with splendor, unseen in the gloom of 

mines : 
'Tis not now the less of a diamond, because it is polished, and 

shines ! 
The flower that was hunted by wild weeds, thinks n^ver to 

bloom the less fair. 
Because it is borne to a garden, and tended with wisdom and 

care. 
A lamp in the sky had been tarnished by cloud-birds that flew 

from afar ; 
The wind swept the mist from its brightness — it gleamed, all 

the more of a star ! 
Whatever is at fault in your grandchild, her learning makes 

easier withstood ; 
Whatever is good in your grandchild, her learning makes only 

more good. 

GRANDAM. 

That's nice, soothin' sentiments, Schoolma'am, an' helps all 

that works in your line ; 
It's one o' your golden opinions — I wish that it also was mine! 
But, Teacher, suppose that she marries — the knives of her brain 

bright an' keen — 
An' knows all creation, excep' how to keep her house cosy and 

clean ! 
Suppose when her husband comes home tired, the cheer o' her 

table to seek 
She feeds him with steak that is soggy, an' tells him its mean- 
in' in Greek? 
Suppose that her coffee is muddy as if it was dipped from a 

trench : 
Will that make his stomach less homesick, because she can tell 

it in French ? 
Suppose that her help is her master, along o' the things she 

don't know : 



80 Platform Pearls. 



Can algebra make up the diff 'rence, or grammar books give her 

a show ? 
Oh, Schoolma'am, those woraen keep house best (with nothin' 

to say ag'in you), 
Who've learned to keep house o' their mothers, an' worked all 

its alphabet through ! ♦ 

TEACHER. 

Your grandchild must take for her husband, a man with an 

intellect wide, 
"Who makes of the well-guarded body a place for the soul to 

reside ; 
Whose home is a God-made cathedral, with heart-blessings 

clear- voiced and sweet ; 
Who comes back at night for soul-comfort — not simply what 

he can eat. 
Who thinks with her, feels with her, helps her ; has patience, 

for both of their sakes ; 
Who celebrates all her successes, and takes stock in all her 

mistakes. 
Who treasui-es her well-taught advantage o'er one who unstud- 
ied begins ; 
Who welcomes with sweet- whispered pleasure each step of the 

race that she wins. 
Who leads her to minds that are kindled with brands from the 

watch-fires of fame ; 
Who's glad that her lamp has been trimmed well, to catch the 

clear sanctified flame. 

GRAND AM. 

An' if she shouldn't find this cur'os'ty ? 

TEACHER. 

Then let her as single be known ; 

And thank God her training has taught her to work out life's 
problem alone. 

GRANDAM. 

But, Schoolma'am, admittin' yoiu- arg'ment (if one can '^ad- 
mit " what one don't) 

We'll say that she'll marry an angel (tho likelier 'twill happen 
she won't); 

But s'posin' she does, an' her childi-en are sent, same as others, 
to school : 



Platform Pearls. 81 



I'm worryin' 'bout whether she'll let 'em be taught by the brain- 

stuffin' rule. 
It hurts me to see 'em build over a child into somebody's pride, 
Through givin' him heart-aches each week-day, by poundin' 

his head from inside ! 
They make 'em bite books with their teethin'; grown studies 

run all through their play ; 
They're killin' the children by inches, with five or six studies a 

day. 
They load 'em with large definitions — as big as the children 

are small ; 
Ah me ! it's a wonder the poor things twist up into grown 

folks at all ! 
There's many a poor little cre'tur' with other folks' words over- 
filled. 
Not only " made mad " by '■' much learning " but weakened an' 

sickened an' killed ! 
There's many a green little grass-mound, whose tenant would 

say, could it talk, 
" I died by their tryin' to run me, before I was able to walk ! " 

TEACHER. 

A blessing's no less of a blessing, because by some 'tis abused ; 
The air, fire, and water can murder — and yet they all have to 

be used. 
The steed that we drive to the river is tempted, not tortured, to 

drink ; 
The child should be given thought-burdens — but only to teach 

him to think. 
Take comfort from now for the future ; for Katherine, with all 

that she knows. 
Is bright as a dollar just minted, and fresh as a new-blossomed 

rose. 

GRANDAM. 

But, Teacher, I'll tell my main trouble (though less than the 

ones I have said) ; 
I'm gettin' behind the times daily, while Kate keeps a gettin' 

ahead. 
She'll grow a fine lady, and nothin' between us in common 

there'll be ; 
Now don't you think, some time or other, that Kate'll be 

'shamed, like, o' me? 



Platform Pearls. 



Kate (entering, and kissing Grandam). 
Ashamed of you? Never ! — I'd give more for one silver hair of 

your head, 
Than all of the studies I know of, and all of the authors I've 

read ! ♦ 

Do you know, you absurd dear old Grandma, your heart and 

your brain are more aid. 
Than all of the sciences heard of, and all of the books ever 

made! 
No process that man has discovered will act out affection's pure 

part; 
The brain of the head is a failure, compared to the brain of the 

heart ! 
Ashamed of you ? Let your grand life-work an answer unqual- 
ified be ! 
Pray God that my life may be lived so you'll never be " 'shamed 

like " o' me ! 

— Will Carleton, in '^Ladies' Home JournaV^ 



60. A CHRISTIAN ENBEAVOREIt'S POSITION. 

VTHAT SHALL CHRISTIAN YOUNG PEOPLE DO AGAINST THE 
SALOON ? 

The question is its own perfect answer, and I can only give 
it back expanded, as one may blow a rosebud into bloom. 

First of all, J will be a Christian. I w^ill keep myself pure. 
I will, as to this thing, abolish the word " temperance." It is 
the Pharisee of grammar, the arch-hypocrite of the vocabulary 
of this reform, the blood-guiltiest common noun in the lan- 
guage, a quagmire of definition not to be trusted by the foot of 
reason, or crossed by any but an empty vehicle of thought. I 
will be a Christian. Henceforth I'll stand upon the mountain 
top of Paul's great verse, of which the familiar version is : "If 
meat make my brother to offend, I will not eat meat enough 
to hurt myself tho the w^orld perish ; but which is ivritten, " I 
will eat no meat while the world stands." And drinking wine 
does cause my brother to offend. From the first, the strong, 
clean, moderate drinker has been, and is to-day, the weak 
man's schoolmaster, to lead him to the gutter. Am I saying 
that one who drinks is not a Christian ? No ; but he is not such 
a Christian as can help in this endeavor. 



Platform Pearls. 83 



Iimll he a man — an active, definite, persistent, self-respect- 
ing and respect-compelling man ; no flunky to a party or 
a sect ; no toady to a majority ; no trimmer to the popular 
breeze ; no lisping baby -talker to committees ; no whimpering 
petitioner of my own servants ; no whispering, apologetic 
preacher, with a gag ; no wire-puller's Punch and Judy penny 
puppet annex to a party show ; no straddling, small and easy 
reformer ; no driveling camp-follower of the world's forward 
march ; no dreary spouter of the Concordance ; no Christian 
whose convictions require editing ; no sniveling moral coward 
trembling at a politician's sneer ; no pastor whose politics are 
queer ; no crayfish pietist backing under a creed at the approach 
of a new thought. I will he intelligent ; I will take a Prohibition 
newspaper and read it. I will have an opinion and express it. I 
will he consistent ; I will let no man despise me. I will not 
despise myself ; if I keep political company where saloon keep- 
ers feel at home, I will be man enough not to pray "Thy king- 
dom come on earth." I will be too much a man to talk of ta- 
king the world for Christ while I am consenting to farm out the 
highways of my own country to saloons and live on the rentals. 
I will hold no politician's coat while he stones a prophet or 
denies full citizenship to a woman. By the grace of God, I 
will be a Christian and a manly man. 

I WILL BE AGAINST THE SALOON 

and anything that favors, fears, or ignores it. The liquor 
traffic is the foot-rot of civilization. Saloons are the progeny 
of cities betrayed by party politics. I will renounce utterly 
and forever all allegiance to any political party in municii)al 
government. I will not be bound by a caucus. But when a 
citizens' meeting conflicts with my prayer-meeting, I will miss 
the prayer-meeting. I will trust no man in city politics who 
winks at the saloon in national politics. 

In national affairs I will belong to a party and be true to it, 
so true that when it goes wrong I will leave it and go straight 
ahead until it catches up. I will scratch the wickedness out of 
its ticket and then throw the ticket away, unless I can stand 
with it upon a clean, brave, open platform. A man who is 
false to himself can not be true to anything, and a party that 
asks a man to belie himself and speak eas?/ his convictions, will in 
time betray both him and the country. A coward is potential- 
ly a traitor. I will square my politics to my church, or leave 



84 Platform Pearls. 



the church. The man, the ticket, or the party that expects or 
desires votes from the saloon shall have no vote from me. Let 
who will win this election, sell the licenses, and administer the 
all-pervasive paltry-treason of the spoils ; when the clean church 
comes, whose right it is, she will take, without a rival or a 
question, the scepter of the world and reign. I will be for that. 
These hands are hers, only two of millions ; but I will wash 
them, by the grace of God, and keep them clean for her. No 
sales, no spoils, no saloon votes in Christian Endeavor I 

— John G, Woolley, 



61. A FANATIC. 

" Fanatic ! " they said ; yes, he stood for the truth, 
Defended it always by day and by night ; 

He wrought for the good of the children and youth, 
Well knowing the worth of their souls in God's sight. 

Fanatic was he? Yes, he spent time and strength 
In labors of love for the tempted and tossed, 

No toil was too great, no trifle too small 
To offer to Him for the souls that were lost. 

Fanatic was he ? Yet he cheerfully gave 
Of his income so small, to those who had less, 

And the poor and the lowly, the sad ones of earth, 
Had cause this '* fanatic " to love and to bless. 

Fanatic was he ? Yes, the world flitted by, 
With its laughter and song, its jest and its jeer ; 

They pitied him so, so they said as they went. 
For they fancied his life bitter, cheerless, and drear. 

For they had their pleasure, their wine and their glee. 
And life was to them gay, and merry, and bright. 

They lived for themselves, while he toiled for those 
Whom, born in the darkness, he brought to the light. 

Ah ! little they knew how the peace God doth give 
Dwelt deep in his heart, sweet, abiding, and strong, 

And how, when in sorrow o'er those whom he loved, 
God gave in the night-time His presence and song. 

And one day he died, and they laid him to rest 

On the sunny hillside, 'neath the grass and the flowers, 



Platfcmim Pearls. 85 



In the sorrowful hush of a heart-broken throng, 
Where lovingly God keepeth watch through the hours. 

Ah ! happy forever, no longer to toil 
Alone, and in sorrow, and misunderstood, 

No longer " fanatic," but heir to a throne, 
With all the redeemed, the rejoicing and good. 

O Soul ! thou hast won — and thy hard race is o'er, 
Time's years are but few, and Eternity's long ; 

Thy service of love for the sin-stricken earth 
Shall blossom forever in gladness and song. 

— Maria L. Underhill. 

62. A OliORIOUS MONUMENT. 

An artist, seeing a little boy, with rosy cheeks and laughing 
face, playing with his toys, was so charmed with the beauty 
and happiness of the child that he requested the privilege of 
taking its portrait. Permission being granted, he transferred 
the features of the beautiful boy to his canvas, and placed 
it in his studio, as one of the first specimens of his cherished 
art, and of the beauty, innocence, and happiness of childhood. 

Many years afterward the same artist desired to find a sub- 
ject that should be the very reverse of this. After a long 
search, on going into a prison, he there saw a man who, in a 
drunken frenzy, had murdered his own wife, and was soon to 
be executed as the penalty for his crime. His countenance 
was the picture of agony, remorse, and despair. The artist 
transferred the features of that wretched culprit to his can- 
vas, and placed it in his studio, side by side with that of the 
beautiful and happy boy he had taken many years before. On 
retracing the history of that wretched man back to his child- 
hood, he proved to be the same innocent boy whose happy and 
smiling countenance now exhibited a striking contrast by the 
side of that of the condemned criminal. 

This is but a picture of what our youth may become, unless 
parents educate them to shun the vices and temptations of the 
liquor trafiic. Such, fond parents, may be the fate af that 
little cherub boy you are now dandling on your knee, unless 
you, like an ancient heroine, make him " swear eternal hatred" 
to the liquor trafiic. Cherish not the fond hope that he may 
not be allured and fall by the same insidious foe. All along 
life's perilous pathway may be seen the wrecks of thousands. 



86 Platform Pearls. 



whose early training and prospects were as bright and hope- 
ful as are his. Oh, what is that bitter wail which is heard 
from fond parents' hearts all the earth over ? Is it not like that 
which escaped from the Hps of the king of Israel : " Oh, my 
son, my son ! Would God I had died for thee, my soi}, my 
son ! " Is it not the wail of bhghted hopes and ruined pros- 
pects arising over the victims of a legalized curse ? 

Father's, brothers, will you stand with folded arms and silent 
tongues, and see this boa-consti'ictor, the liquor traffic, crush 
out the lives and hopes of yom- fondest affections? ^^No? 
No ! " Methinks I hear a thousand reply : " No ! It must not 
be ! It shall not be ! " If aU who acknowledge the evils re- 
sulting from this nefarious business, and the necessity of its 
utter annihilation, would engage in its extirpation with heart, 
hand, and ballot, it would be exterminated — certainly, speed- 
ily, and effectually. Its accomphshment would be the grand- 
est event the world has ever witnessed. It would be perpetu- 
ated in eloquence, poetry, and song, and transmitted to posterity 
by some master historian, written with an eloquent pen, on a 
spotless page, in a golden era. 

Its achievement would constitute a monument far more 
glorious than any which the genius of antiquity has ever be- 
queathed to the generations that were to follow. Moldering 
and dilapidated are the pyramids of Egypt, the Mausoleum, 
and the temples of Athens and of Rome. Lost are the cities 
of Ninevah and Babylon. Forgotten are the countless millions 
that have figured upon the earth, and taken their exit. But 
the prohibition of the Hquor traffic will be a monument which 
the devastating jaws of Time can never demohsh. With foun- 
dations resting on the eternal principles of ti'uth and justice, 
this memorial will remain when all the temples of the earth 
are demohshed and Natm-e's great temples retain not a 
stone ; until the promised era, foretold in prophecy and invoked 
in poetry, when the Angel of Time, standing on sea and land 
with uplifted hand, shall swear by Him that liveth forever and 
ever. Time shaU be no longer ! For tho its pedestal be on 
earth, its glorious apex towers unto heaven. 

— Prof. Chas. W. Sanders. 

63. DRINK! 

Drink ! spend your hard-earned wages for Death I 
Drink ! for a foul, obnoxious breath ! 



Platform Pearls. 87 



Drink ! for health and morals shattered ! 
Drink ! for raiment thread-bare, tattered ! 
Drink ! that the Publican and his wife, 
May wear rich jewels, bought with your life I 

Drink ! that the mob may jeer you ! 
Drink ! that the good may fear you ! 
Drink ! that you may be known as a fool, 
By the smallest tot that goes to school ! 
Drmk ! that men may say of you — 
Not your own mother could love you ! 
Drink ! that your days may end speedily, 
And earth, for your absence, better be ! 

— Translation from the Persian of Omar, by H, G, 



64. STAND FIRM. 

Stand firm when the enemy charges 

Your ranks in all his might. 
When sore indeed is the danger 

That lies in the hot, fierce fight. 
Cower not in that hour of conflict 

When the test comes unto you ; 
But in that hour of hours 

To God and yourself be true. 

Stand firm, and not for an instant 

Let the coward's thought be yours, 
Or the heart that is weak and trembling 

The heart that not endures ; 
But steel your breast to the conflict, 

And with courage your soul endue ; 
And in that hour of hours 

To God and yourself be true. 

Stand firm, and so shall falter 

The enemy at last, 
Grow weak, and yield the conquest ; 

And the trial will be past. 
And so shall glorious victory 

O'er sin come unto you, 
Since you, in that hour of hours, 

To God and yourself were true. 

— George Newell Lovejoy, in " Golden Rule 



Platform Pearls. 



65 "I'VE GOT IT!" OR, THE RUMSELIiER 
JUBIIiANT. 

" I've got it ! I've got it ! " he shouted with joy, 
And chuckled and danced like a half-witted boy ! 
And what has he gotten — this boaster ? pray tell ! , 
Why, license to send his weak neighbors to — well, 

Eum-drinking, idleness, shiftlessness, shame, 

Ultimate ruin of fortune and fame ! 

" I've got it ! I've got it ! — they signed it last night ! " 
And what does this document grant ? Why, the right 
Intoxicant liquors of all kinds to sell, 
To rake in the dollars and send men to — weU, 

Drunkenness, penury, gross self-neglect. 

Loss of then- own and of others' respect! 

" I've got it ! I've got it ! I've got it ! " And now. 
How came he to get it ? You ought to know how ! 
Your ballot instructed the city to sell 
The right to recruit for the armies of — ^well, 
Mendicants, criminals, suicides — all 
Who under the curse of the rum-traffic fall ! 

" I've got it ! I've got it ! " Ah ! yes, so he has ! 
And thousands of others have "got it," alas ! 
And millions of people are rushing pell-mell 
tnto these licensed recruit shops of — well, 
^ Why don't you stop it ? Why vote for the men 
Who vote for saloons? Don't do it again ! 

— Lorin Ludlow. 



66. THE LAND OF PROHIBITION. 

No broken windows or hanging doors. 
No greasy walls or dh'ty floors, 
But pretty homes and gardens gay, 
Scent of sweet flowers milee away 
In the Land of Prohibition. 

No " raggit weans," no weary wives, 
No women in fear for then* wretched lives. 
But merry maids and bonny boys, 
And streets ahve with gladsome noise 
In the Land of Prohibition. 



Platform Pearls. 



No aching hearts and dragging feet, 
No unemployed in any street, 
But bounding step and cheery song, 
"Work for the willing, brave, and strong 
In the Land of Prohibition. 

No frowning jails or prisons drear, 
No criminals in training here, 
But far and wide our banner waves 
O'er men who never shall be slaves — 
In the Land of Prohibition. 

No public debt to make men frown, 
No breaking banks to crush them down, 
No empty coffers in the state. 
For debts are small and incomes great 
In the Land of Prohibition. 

Dear, far-off country of my birth, 
The grandest spot upon the earth. 
Oh, may I live to see the day 
When all thy woe shall pass away. 
And glorious, beautiful, and free 
Thou shalt arise victoriously — 

The Land of Prohibition. 

— Mrs. Harrison Lee, Victoria, Australia. 



67. THE NECTAK OF THE HILLS. 

We poetize about it when we see the water dancing in the 
shower, or flashing in the lake, or impearled in the hoar frost, 
or enthroned in the rainbow ; but how little ordinarily we 
think of the necessity which it supplies. No one but the in- 
finite God could mix this elixir commonly called water. In 
right proportion are its elements combined, or instead of life it 
would be death. So simple it seems, that, poured out in a cup 
or standing in a pitcher, it excites no remark. But what Di- 
vine mingling of chloride of sodium, chloride of magnesia, sul- 
phate of lime, carbonate of soda, sulphate of soda, phosphate 
of alumina, and many constituent parts that I have no time to 
name. The human hand and the human brain can manufac- 
ture liquids deleterious or liquids that may be pleasant and re- 
freshing for a while, but it took a God to mingle tliis wine of 
the hills, which never intoxicates and has no baleful reactions, 



90 Platform Pearls. 



and is so superior to all other beverages that whatever else vre 
taste, with water we close the feast, banishing all other tastes 
from our mouths with a sip of this divinely-mingled liquid. 
Its importance God indicated when, in the formation of the 
earth, He put into it two and three-fourths times more water 
than dry land. You thank God for bread, why not thank Him 
for water ? The one is as great a necessity as the other. 

And here let me say there is no excuse for any American 
city being short of supply when there are great lakes of fresh 
water and great rivers of fresh water North, South, East, and 
West. Why does New York dip its cup into a puddle a few 
miles up, when it might pour Lake George and Niagara Falls 
into its chalices ? If a small part of the money misappropriated 
in half the cities were devoted to the bringing down of more 
abundant waters, there would be in no city of America any 
threat of water famine. But for the present necessity, let us 
ask God for rain. EHjah's prayer brought down the showers, 
and your prayers and the prayers of aU the people can do as 
much. In answer to supplications already ascended, I think 
the skies are now preparing for a great rain, and the windows 
of heaven will be opened, and the reservoirs will be filled. 

Water — study it. One glass of it is enough to confound the 
chemist and overwhelm the Christian. Meanwliile, never par- 
take of this superb and delicious liquid without emotion of 
gratitude to God. Stand around this nectar of the hills, and 
drink, aU of you, to the praise of Him who brewed it among 
the mountains. I rejoice that the Bible is aU asparkle with 
fountains and wells and rivers and oceans. They toss up their 
brightness from almost every chapter. Solomon exclaims, 
" As cold water to a thirsty soul, so is good news from a far 
country." Isaiah, speaking of the blessedness of Christians, 
says, " They shall spring up as willows by the water courses." 
In the canticles, the church is often spoken of as a " well of 
living water," and " streams from Lebanon." The prophet, 
glowing with anticipation of the millennium, says, *' Streams 
shall break forth in the desert "; and to make heaven the more 
alluring to those who have lived on the banks of rivers, and 
are fond of landscapes ribboned and glorified with bright 
streams, St. John says, " He showed me a pure river of water 
of life, clear as crystal, proceeding out of the throne of God 
and the Lamb." —Rev. T. De Witt Talmage. 



Platform Pearls. 91 



68. ^VHY? 

He couldn't write, he couldn't read, 

He little knew nor cared 
About the people's wrongs and need ; 
How others lived he took no heed, 

Nor how they fared. 

The big saloon he couldn't pass, 

Nor pools of any type. 
He couldn't live without his glass, 
And he was miserable, alas ! 

Without his pipe. 

On public streams, whiche'er the way, 

He could do naught but float ; 
And on the questions of the day, 
He couldn't think, he couldn't pray — 

But he could vote. 

She couldn't drink, she couldn't swear, 

She couldn't even smoke ; 
Nor could she open wrongs declare. 
Nor with a ballot did she dare 

The right invoke. 

She loved the people and she knew 

The questions passing by 
Were weighty ; her conclusions drew — 
And out of these convictions grew. 

The how and why. 

She kept herself outside the rut ; 

From leading minds could quote ; 
She had opinions clearly cut ; 
Could write and read and reason — hut 

She could not vote. 

— Hattie Horner Louthan. 



69. THE SUPREOTE CURSE. 

The supreme or capital curse of the nineteenth century is 
summed up in the one word " saloon," because its influence 
extends in all directions ; and wherever it is felt, human mis- 
ery, degi-adation, and moral eclipse follow. It is the devil-fish 
of our civilization, whose every tentacle crushes to death. It 



Platform Pearls. 



pollutes poKtics ; it degrades manhood ; it makes a possible 
murderer of every victim ; it fills the slums with want and 
wretchedness ; it crowds our jails to overflowing, and is a lead- 
ing factor in populating insane asylums, almshouses, and the 
Potter's fields ; it destroys the physical strength of manhood ; it 
beclouds the intellect ; it obliterates moral integrity. * But, 
towering above all this, its crowning evil, and that which 
makes its existence the national crime of the age, is its effect 
upon the guiltless. The innocent wife, the prattling children, 
and the unborn baby all feel its cruel curse. This is the phase 
of the problem which makes its toleration a crime of measure- 
less proportions. The supremacy of the saloon affords a most 
impressive illustration of the possibihty of a whole nation be- 
coming morally anaesthetized by a curse constantly before its 
vision, and whose wealth is lavishly used to quell all opposition 
which would deal it mortal blows. We build insane asylums 
and incarcerate madmen, for the protection of the lives of their 
families and others ; but here we find a so-called Christian 
nation giving the stamp of legality to a traffic which takes from 
thousands of innocent people every gleam of hope and happi- 
ness, clothing bodies in rags and minds in perpetual fear. 
If the saloon cursed only its victims the case would be differ- 
ent ; but it is the gloved hand behind the automatic victim 
which is responsible for a large proportion of the crimes com- 
mitted yearly against the innocent. — B, O. Flower. 



70. THE SPEECHIiESS. 

Ye call them dumb, and deem it well, 
How e'er their bursting hearts may swell, 
They have no voice their woes to tell, 

As fabuhsts have dreamed. 
They can not cry ' ' O Lord how long 
Wilt Thou, the patient Judge and stiong, 
Behold thy creatures suffer vtrrong 

Of these thy blood redeemed ? " 

Yet are they silent ? need they speech 

His Holy sympathies to reach. 

Who by their lips could prophets teach, 

And for their sakes would spare 
When, wrestling with His own decree, 
To save repentant Nineveh, 



He foui^. 

So "inc4,.-„ 

Have they no language ? Angels ^ 
Who take account of every blow : 
And there are angel hearts below, 

On whom the Eternal Dove 
His penticostal gift hath poured, 
And that forgotten speech restored 
That filled the garden of the Lord 

When Nature's voice was love. 

Oh, blest are they the creatures bless ! 
And yet that wealth of tenderness, 
In look, in gesture, in caress. 

By which our hearts they teach. 
Might well the thoughtful spirit grieve, 
BeUeving — as we must believe — 
How little they from man receive. 

To whom they give so much. 

They may be silent, as ye say, 
But woe to them who, day by day. 
Unthinking for what boon they pray. 

Repeat " Thy kingdom come." 
Who, when before the Great White Throne, 
Shall plead that mercy may be shown. 
Find awful voices drown their own, 

The voices of the dumb, 

— Anna Drury. 



71. WHAT »0 YOU CARE? 

Strong men are faUing on every hand. 
Havoc appalling is wrought in the land ; 
Pestilence, famine, and war are outdone — 
Never more damning ill under the sun — 
Highest and lowest are caught in the snare : 
Statesmen and patriots, what do you care f 

Women are weeping worn hearts away. 
Fasting and watch keeping day after day ; 
Tremblingly waiting steps that were dear, 
Love soured to hating, hope chilled to fear ; 



x.^cist can bear — 
,, Lcuat ao you care ? 

^ are crying for love and for bread, 
Needlessly dying, happy when dead ; 
Carrying friendless hearts made for fim , 

Through shadows endless, life just began : 
Aimlessly wandering, hungry, and bare ; 
Fathers and mothers, what do you care ? 

Babes are polluted, cursed from their birth, 
Parents embruted fixing their worth. 
Infancy prized by the Spirit of Wine — 
Tlie modern Moloch — is burnt at his shrine ; 
Daily his priests for their altars prepare ; 
Champions of Christendom, icliat do you care 9 

Daily the weak to slavery sink. 

Vainly they seek escape from the drink ; 

Household and neighbor, involved in their thrall, 

Fruitlessly labor to break the fall ; 

Piteously rises the victim's prayer ; 

Lovers of freedom, what do you care ? 

Jesus by dying liberty gave ; 

Love self-denying only can save ; 

Light to its strength is the temperance cross, 

Glorious at length the gain of its loss ; 

Passion and triumph Love asks us to share ; 

Fi-iends of the Saviour, ivhat do you care 9 

— I. F. B. Tinling. 



72. DEACON BEERY'S PROTEST. 

Deacon Beery went into the commissioner's office where 
licenses for selling liquor are sold. He was off in one corner 
reading Bishop Molehill's tract on " High License." Being a 
httle near-sighted in his ears, he failed to hear correctly what 
the next applicant for license said, but he thought he heard the 
following : 

" Mr. Commissioner, I want a hcense to get drunk. I want 
to get drunk for a year, and make myself dangerous to all. I 
want to pay for all the crime I shall commit, and I want to 
pay for it in advance. What's the bill ? " 



Platform Pearls. 95 



" One hundred dollars," was the reply. 

The man took the license and departed. The deacon was 
paralyzed with horror. Coming to the desk he said : 

" Is it really possible that you let a man commit a crime by 
paying his fine in advance ? What a state of morals we have 
reached ! It seems to me the avenging hand of justice must 
be near. Shame ! Everlasting shame and contempt on such 
laws ! " 

" You don't understand," said the clerk. *' The man does 
Qot want a license to do wrong ; he simply wants a license to 
make other people commit crime. He himself is a very moral 
man. This money I just received is needed to pay damages 
arising from — " 

" From what? " shrieked the deacon. 

"From the liquor traffic," said the clerk. " In fact," con- 
tinued the clerk, "out of every $17 damages from liquor, we 
make the dealers pay one by the way of a tax — some call it 
license." 

"And the people?" said the deacon. 

" Pay the $16," was the calm reply. 

The deacon put the tract in the stove and started down- 
stairs, saying, " ' Lead us not into temptation '; and if the wel- 
fare of Thy Kingdom demands that I should refuse to lead 
Dthers in, even tho my party should lose a vote, yet I say, 
'True and righteous are thy ways altogether, O Lord.' " 

The deacon was converted. — Home Gazette, 



73. EVE'S RECOMPENSE. 

A woman once, in Paradise, 'tis said, 

Sinned, and brought countless curses on her head 

And not alone she suffered, but on all 

Her race bestowed the harvest of her fall. 

Her husband, too, shared the disastrous sin. 

And brought the whole family of mankind in. 

He, timid soul, was fearful of his life, 

And whispered faintly, " Lord, it was my wife — 

She tempted me ! " O father of the race ! 

That speech but added more to thy disgrace ! 

To think a member of the " weaker sex " 
Should have such power his miglity soul to vex I 



96 Platform Pearls. 



Because her opportunity was first 
Ere his, why is she more accurst ? 
Perhaps her lord was jealous that not he 
Was offered first the fruit of wisdom's tree. 
But woman, for the wit she paid in pain, 
Resolves the sacrifice shall not be vain ; * 

And, tho her trials high as heaven mount, 
Decides they shall be turned to good account. 

First in transgression, first repentant, she 
In works benev'lent ever first will be. 
Experience-taught, all Satan's wiles to shun, 
She longs to shield her husband, brother, son. 
Satan, too wise to try his former plan. 
Tempts, in another way, the race of man. 
Foreseeing in the apple no excuse. 
Decides, this time, to try the apple's juice. 
Through this, to wine and beer, the danger grows, 
Till all man's shame is ^vTitten on his nose. 

Now woman comes to thwart the demon's plan. 

Abolish alcohol, and save the man ; 

First moral suasion tries, but little gains, 

But scorn and ridicule for all her pains. 

The man, so wilHng to be led, of yore, 

By Eden's queen, now wills to go before. 

Now, to be led by woman is a shame, 

The world will laugh, 'twill hurt his manly name. 

Next, woman thinks by law to thwart the Devil, 

And by her ballot to undo the evil. 

But Satan, in a politician's coat. 

Cries out in terror, "Don't, don't let her vote ! " 

For tho he has a throne in every land, 

Tlie Devil dreads a blow from woman's hand. 

But she, who suffers most beneath his reign. 

Predestined is to forge his final chain. 

She who first sinned is set apart by fate 

To banish wTong and her sin expiate. 

For righteous laws and equal rights we stand, 

For God and home, our own and every land. 

— Mabel B, Winter, 



Platform Pearls. 97 



74. "DOKLESKY'S ERRENTS." 

(Dialogue, arranged from the interview between Samantha and the Senator, 
in Josiah Allen's Wife's " Sweet Cicely.") 

Senator (boiving prof oundly) : "Shall I have the inexpres- 
sible honor and the delightful joy of aiding you in any way ? 
If so, command me." 

Samantha (impressively): "Dorlesky Burpy sent these er- 
rents to you. She wanted intemperance done away with — 
the whisky ring broke right up. She wanted you to drink 
nothin' stronger than root-beer when you had company to din- 
ner, she offerin' to send you a receipt for it from Jonesville ; 
and she wanted her rights, and she wanted 'em all this week 
without fail." 

SLIGHT PAUSE. 

Samantha: " Now, can you do Dorlesky's errents? and will 
you?" 

Senator (examining corner of Samantha' s "■ mantilly ''"') : 
" Am I mistaken, or is this the trimming called piping? or can 
it be Kensington tatting?" 

A PAUSE. 

Senator (continuing): "Have I not heard a rumor that 
bangs were going out of style ? I see you do not wear your 
lovely hair bang-like, or a pompidorus ! Ah! women are lovely 
creatures, lovely beings, every one of them." (Sighing.) " You 
are very beautiful." 

Samantha ; "I shall do Dorlesky's errents, and do 'em to 
the best of my ability ; and you can't draw off my attention 
from her sufferin's and her suffragin's by talkin' about bangs." 

Senator : "I would love to oblige Dorlesky, because she 
belongs to such a lovely sex. Wimmen are the loveliest, most 
angelic creatures that ever walked the earth : they are perfect, 
flawless, like snow and roses." 

Samantha: "That hain't no such thing. They are dis- 
agreeable creeters a good deal of the time. They hain't no 
better than men. But they ought to have their rights all the 
same. Now, Dorlesky is disagi-eeable, and kinder fierce actin', 
and jest as humbly as they make women ; but that hain't no 
sign she ort to be imposed upon. Josiah says, * She hadn't ort 
to have a right, not a single right, because she is so humbly.' 
But I don't feel so." 
7 



Platform Pearls. 



Senator : " Who is Josiah ? " 

Samantha: "■ My husband." 

Senator: "Ah! your husband! yes, women should have 
husbands instead of rights. They do not need rights, they 
need freedom from all cares and sufferings. Sweet*, lovely 
beings, let them have husbands to lift them above all earthly 
cares and trials ! Oh! angels of our homes — fly around, ye 
angels, in your native haunts ! mingle not with rings, and vile 
laws ; flee away, flee above them." 

Samantha : " Dorlesky would have been glad to flew above 
'em. But the ring and the vile laws laid holt of her, unbe- 
known to her, and dragged her down. She didn't meddle with 
the political ring, but the ring meddled with her. How can 
she fly when the weight of this infamous traffic is a holdin' her 
down?" _ 

Senator : *' Ahem ! Ahem, as it were — as I was saying, my 
dear madam, these angelic angels of our homes are too ethe- 
real, too dainty, to mingle with the rude crowds. We pohtical 
men would fain keep them as they are now : we are willing to 
stand the rude buffetings of — of — voting, in order to guard 
these sweet, dehcate creatures from any hardships. Sweet, 
tender beings, we would fain guard you — ah, yes I ah, yes ! " 

Samantha : " Cease instantly, or my sickness will increase ; 
for such talk is hke thoroughwort or lobeha to my moral stom- 
ach. You know, and I know, that these angelic, tender bein's, 
half clothed, fill our streets on icy midnights, huntin' up 
drunken husbands and fathers and sons. They are starved, 
they are frozen, they are beaten, they are made childless and 
hopeless, by drunken husbands killing their own flesh and 
blood. They go down into the cold waves, and are drowned 
by drunken captains ; they are cast from railways into death 
by drunken engineers ; they go up on the scaffold, and die of 
crimes committed by the direct aid of this agent of hell. 

"Women had ruther be a flyin' round than to do all this, 
but they can't. If you want to be consistent — if you are bound 
to make angels of women, you ort to furnish a free, safe place 
for 'em to soar in. You ort to keep the angels from bein' med- 
dled with, and bruised, and killed, etc." 

Senator : " Ahem — as it were, ahem." 

Samantha: "I am sorry for Dorlesky, sorry for the hull 



Platform Pearls. 



women race of the nation. Can you, and will you, do Dor- 
lesky's errents ? " 

Senator : "Well, so far as giving Dorlesky her rights is 
concerned, natural human instinct is against the change. Cer- 
tainly modern history don't seem to encourage the scheme." 

Samantha : "We won't argue long on that point, for I 
could pver whelm you if I approved of overwhelmin'. But I 
merely ask you to cast yom* right eye over into England, and 
then beyond it into France. Men have ruled exclusively in 
France for the last forty or fifty years, and a woman in Eng- 
land : which realm has been the most peaceful and prosper- 
ous?" 

Senator : ' ' Well, but you people seem to place a great deal 
of dependence on the Bible. The Bible is against the idea. 
The Bible teaches man's supremacy, man's absolute power and 
might and authority." 

Samatha : "Why, how you talk ! Why, in the very first 
chapter, the Bible tells how man was jest turned right round 
by a woman. It teaches how she not only turned man right 
round to do as she wanted him to, but turned the hull world 
over. 

"A few years later, after men and women grew wiser, 
when we hear of women ruling Israel openly and honestly, 
like Miriam, Deborah, and other likely old 4 mothers, why, 
things went on better. 

"And, as I said before, if God called woman into this work, 
He will enable her to carry it through. He will protect her 
from her own weaknesses, and from the misapprehensions and 
hard judgments and injustices of a gain-saying world. 

"Will you do Dorlesky 's errents? Will you give her her 
rights ? And will you break the Whisky Ring ? " 

Senator : " My dear madam, I would love to do Dorlesky's 
errands. You have convinced me that it would be just and 
right to do them, but the Constitution of the United States is 
against them. As the laws are, I can not make any move 
towards doing either of the errands." 

Samantha : " Can't the laws be changed ? " 

Senator: "Be changed? Change the laws of the United 
States? Tamper with the glorious Constitution that our fore- 
fathers left us — an immortal, sacred legacy ? Can it be that I 



100 Platform Pearls. 



heard my ear aright ? or did you speak of changing the unal- 
terable laws of the United States — tampering with the Consti- 
tution?" 

Samantha : "Yes, that is what I said. Hain't they never 
been changed ? " ♦ 

Senator : " Oh, well, yes ; they have been changed in cases 
of necessity." 

Samantha: "The laws have been changed to benefit 
whisky dealers. And you jest said I had convinced you that 
Dorlesky's errents wus errents of truth and justice, and you 
would love to do 'em." 

Senator : " Well, yes, yes — I would love to — as it were — 
but, really, my dear madam, much as I would like to oblige 
you, I have not the time to devote to it. We Senators and 
Congressmen are so driven, and hard-worked, that really we 
have no time to devote to the cause of Right and Justice. I 
don't think you realize the constant pressure of hard work, 
that is ageing us, and wearing us out, before our day. 

" As I said, we have to watch the liquor-interest constantly, 
to see that the liquor-dealers suffer no loss — we have to do 
that. Taking it with other kindred laws, and the constant 
strain on our minds in trying to pass laws to increase our own 
salaries, you can see just how cramped we are for time. And 
though we would love to pass some laws of Truth and Right- 
eousness — we fairly ache to — yet, not having the requisite 
time, we are obliged to lay 'em on the table, or under it." 

Samantha: "But just think what you area doin'. You 
are a keepin' Dorlesky out of her rights all this time that you 
are working for your own rights, and other folkses. It don't 
seem reasonable. I don't beHeve in it, nor Dorlesky don't. It 
hain't honest." 

Senator : ' ' My dear madam, in pubhc affairs it would never 
do to be too honest. Dishonesty in matters like that you men- 
tion has come to be considered nothing serious ; especially 
when it pays so well. It should be remembered that there are 
different degrees of dishonesty. We senators find it so." 

Samantha: "I don't know how many degrees of dishon- 
esty there may be, but you won't convince me that any one of 
'em is right. Howsumever, it is perfectly clear that there are 
different degrees of insane craziness, and that you are a suffer- 



Platform Pearls. 101 



in' from a voyalent attack. I am dretful sorry for you, and for, 
your folks, but I must be a goin'. I must hunt up somebody 
who can and will do Dorlesky's errents." 



75. "IF." 

If you want a red nose and dim, bleary eyes ; 
If you wish to be one whom all men despise ; 
If you wish to be ragged and weary and sad ; 
If you wish, in a word, to go to the bad ; 

Then drink ! 

If you wish that your life a failure may be ; 
If you wish to be penniless — out at the knee ; 
If you wish to be houseless, broken, forlorn ; 
If you wish to see pointed the finger of scorn ; 

Then drink ! 

If you wish that your manhood be shorn of its strength ; 
That your days may be shortened to one-half their length ; 
If you like the gay music of curse or of wail ; 
If you long for the shelter of poorhouse or jail ; 

Then drink ! 

If your tastes don't agree with the " ifs " as above ; 
If you'd rather have life full of brightness and love ; 
If you care not to venture nor find out too soon 
That the gateway to hell lies through the saloon ! 

Then don't drink ! 

— William Howard. 



76. A SONG OF MARTYRDOM.* 

The King of a boundless empire, 

To his council chamber came ; 
He summoned His loyal princes. 

He named them each by name ; 
For His heart is the heart of a father. 

And He knoweth His own by sight ; 
And He gave them the cross of the legion, 

The badge of the blameless knight. 

As ever, the brave are the tender, 
As ever, the loving are strong. 



* " I believe that in so doing I take my life in my hand."— G^eo. C. Haddock. 



102 Platform Pearls. 



And to him of the heart of the Hon, 

Do the graces of pity belong ; 
And the King, to the Prince of the Fearless, 

Gave order and sign of command ; 
For He knew what manner of hero ♦ 

Had taken his life in his hand. 

Then spake He, the King, to His chosen — 

'' Go wage ye a warfare of peace ; 
Proclaim to the children of sorrow, 

The beautiful year of release ; 
They have gathered the grapes of my gladness. 

And drunken the wine of distress ; 
They have garnered the grain of my plenty 

For famine and bitterness. 

" And the strength and the beauty of nations 

Have plighted their faith to the foe 
That bringeth the honor of manhood, 

The virtue of womanhood, low ; 
And out of the cradle of promise, 

A childhood, dishonored and weak, 
Goes forth with a brand on its forehead. 

And shame on its innocent cheek." 

Then answered the Prince of the Fearless — 

" I am ready, O King ! for the fight ; 
My Hfe not so dear have I counted 

To myself, as the triumph of right." 
But alas ! for the Prince and his army, 

And alas ! for the hands that have slain, 
Tho he sought not the blood of the basest, 

His own was poured out like the rain. 

But out of the dust of the martyr 

Ariseth, immortal and strong, 
The angel of vengeance and mercy. 

With only a sword for the v\Tong. 
The sinner, He ]ifteth and saveth. 

For He loveth the children of men ; 
'Tis the soul of the Prince of the Fearless 

Who leadeth His army again. — O. F. B. 



Platform Pearls. 103 



77. CUT DOWN THE TREE. 

Yes, cut down the tree, tear up the roots — destroy the rum 
traffic. "Why longer waste strength and precious time lopping 
off the branches and dragging them away, by trying to restrict 
by license that which will not be restricted ? Why longer pursue 
each individual drunkard to his hiding place and with pleadings 
— too often ineffectual — seek to reclaim him? Cut off the 
damning supply from Mm, and he will thank you, and you 
will save his soul alive. 

It is too little known how many victims of intoxicants 
fairly long for the total success of the present forward move- 
ment to dry up the streams of the rum trade. 

They are bound hand and foot, soul and body, in the iron 
fetters of appetite now beyond the control of their will, 
which in its turn has become the slave of its tyrannical master ; 
and they are ready to welcome any means, any remedy by 
which this dreadful "inward craving" shall be no longer sat- 
isfied. 

A friend of mine related to me the following incident which 
took place only a few weeks since in the city of New York. 

He stepped into a coffee saloon early one cold morning and 
called for a cup of coffee. The saloon had a liquor bar attached, 
and the proprietor in handing the coffee to my friend said, 
"Will you have something else?" "Nothing else," was the 
reply, " I drink nothing stronger than coffee." While he was 
drinking of the cup a well-dressed man whom he had observed 
walking the floor, stepped up to him and said, with an earnest 
manner, "Sir, I would give all I am worth to be able to do 
what you are doing." "How so, what am I doing that you 
can't do ? " " Why, sir," spoke the earnest man, ' ' you can drink 
your coffee with a zest, and refuse the rum at that bar ; that's 
what I can't do ; no, sir, I can't do that.''' 

Build " Inebriate's Asylums" of stately proportions, a thing 
of beauty in architecture, of Philadelphia brick with mar- 
ble facings, as the graceful building you see on Randall's 
Island in the East Eiver, New York — build such at im- 
mense cost for the drunkards, if you will — send out 
your missionaries in the cities to gather in and convert 
others, di-unkards too poor to be sent to the marble palaces ; 
do all this heroically, and while you are doing your best, for 
every man and woman cured, and every one saved, the legal- 



104 Platform Pearls. 



ized rwn traffic, supported by the government of this nation, 
is turning out one hundred ready-made confirmed drunkards ! 
O, tell it not in Gath, lest the Philistines rejoice over the people 
of the living God. 

In India twenty thousand human lives are annually de- 
stroyed by the bites of venomous reptiles. The government, 
careful of the interests of its subjects, pays a certain sum for 
the head of every venomous reptile killed by any person. 

In this Christian nation seventy thousand human lives are 
destroyed annually by the venomous reptile found in every 
glass or cup of alcohol di-ank in the land, yet this government, 
instead of offering a premium for the head of this destroyer, 
keeps it in a national cage and feeds it on the finest of the 
wheat, and corn, and barley, and offers a premium for the 
preservation of its Uf e, while the huge rattlesnake is swallowing 
the precious lives of our households. This is no time for 
argument ; the case doesn't admit of it ; it is life or death to 
the tens of thousands. A premium for the death of the 
monster ; a price on his head ! Cut down the tree ! For- 
ward, pioneers, with your axes ! — Rev. Dr. W. H. Boole. 



78. PROHIBITION'S BUOLE CAIili. 

Men of purpose, soimd the tocsin 

For the fray — for the fray. 
Men of courage, raise the war-cry. 

Lead the way. 
Through the darksome forest streaming, 
Lo ! the dawn of thought is gleaming, 
And the sun of action beaming 

Into day — into day ; 
Men of purpose, truth, and courage, 

Lead the way. 

Lo ! the waiting ground is ready 

For your toil — for your toil ; 
Men of purpose firm and steady, 

Break the soil ; 
Thickly sow the good seed over, 
Straight and ti'ue the furrows cover, 
Rout the hungry birds that hover 
For the spoil — for the spoil. 



Platform Pearls. 105 



Woman's friend and children's lover, 
Break the soil. 

Foemen strong, with roar and rattle, 

Flock around — flock around ; 
Soldiers in the coming battle. 

Stand your ground ! 
No time now to halt or blunder, 
Cleave their gleaming ranks asunder, 
While the nations watch and wonder, 

Smile or frown — smile or frown. 
Through the cannon's smoke and thunder, 

Ride them down ! 

Men of purpose, sound the tocsin 

For the fray — for the fray ; 
Men of courage, shout the war-cry, 

Lead the way I 
Hand in hand in strength outgoing, 
Heart to heart, with love o'erflowing, 
Breast to breast, with fervor glowing. 

Lead the way — lead the way ; 
Men of purpose, strength, and courage, 

Win the day ! 

— Lide Meriwether. 

79. A PliACE IN HEAVEN. 

Behrynge, the pilgrim, lifting up his head, 

Saw the Death Angel standing near his bed, 

And heard him say in accents calm and cold, 

" The names I write within the Book of Gold 

Are names of those whose place in heaven is won. 

To gain this place what hast thou ever done ? " 

Behrynge, the pilgrim, struck upon his breast, 

" Alas ! full many a law have I transgressed, 

Yet at God's feet, for creatures He hath made 

Both mute and helpless, all my life I laid, 

And prayed Him daily that my strength might be 

Their faithful safeguard, as He guarded me. 

The dumb beast's cause I plead through all the land. 

And stayed the torture of the oppressor's hand. 

My life, my all, to the great work I gave, 

Yet know I not if deeds like these can save." 



106 Platform Pearls. 



The angel vanished. When at heaven's gate, 
Belii-ynge, the pilgrim, sadly came to wait, 
Lo ! the pearl portals flew asunder far. 
A light shone round him Uke a glorious star, 
And a voice said, " Thy sins are all forgiven, 
Love for the helpless won thy place in Heaven." 

— NaVl W. a T. U. Dep't of Mercy. 



80. THE " PERSON AI. lilBERTY" CKY. 

Guizot tells us in his admirable work, the " History of Civil- 
ization " : " Civilization is characterized by no one thing more 
clearly than by the voluntary concession of the liberties of the 
individual citizen that he may enjoy something richer and 
better than civil liberty or organized hberty." 

I have very little patience and but small respect for the 
argument against Prohibition based upon the cry of personal 
liberty. You and I may suffer curtailment of our private 
rights and have our personal liberties invaded constantly. 

Some farmer five miles out comes into your city on Monday 
morning and consults an attorney. He says : "I have an ani- 
mal that died on Sunday morning. Now, is there anything 
that stands in the way of dressing that diseased animal and 
using it for food in my own family ? " and the man, wise in 
the law, tells him, " No, sir ; but as a friend I would not advise 
you to do it, but as a matter of law you have a perfect right to 
do so." " But," said he, " there is more than I can consume ; 
may I not dress it and put it on the market ? " " No," says the 
lawyer, " We have a prohibitory statute in the state against 
the selling of diseased meat. " 

*' But," says the proposed seller," I will advertise it as such ; 
the purchaser shall buy it with full knowledge of the facts." 
''No," the lawyer tells him, "the knowledge and consent of 
the purchaser in no way reUeves you of the obligation you have 
assumed, and you can not put diseased meat upon the market 
and sell it even with the knowledge and consent of the pur- 
chaser." 

Here our personal liberties are hedged again. I see that 
beautiful horse passing along the green yonder, and I have no 
doubt were the gentleman in the carriage behind him to put 
him to the very top of his speed there would be none to say him 
nay ; but let him take him down to the city and speed the ani- 



Platform Pearls. 107 



mal at the very top of his speed, and he would not go two 
blocks before some policeman, if he were doing his duty, would 
have the horse by the bit, and another policeman would have 
the driver by the coat-collar, and he would lug him up to the 
pohce office — his personal liberty invaded. Why? At the 
behest of the public good. 

Smallpox breaks out in your family and your personal lib- 
erty is at once restrained. You can not go out of your door and 
up and down the street as formerly. Why? Because your 
personal liberty must give way before the demand of a higher 
good, the preservation of the public health. 

I will go some of these days over to New York City after 
Prohibition prevails, and it gets fit for a gentleman to live in, 
and I will be on such excellent terms with the citizens that I 
can get their endorsement at the bank for $100,000 ; I will 
spend half of it in buying an elegant building lot right in the 
heart of the city, and then I will accumulate a great quantity 
of building material, and some beautiful morning a gentleman 
with a blue coat and brass buttons will wait upon me, and he 
will say : 

" Sir, are these your premises ? " I tell him they are. " Is 
this your building material ? " I assure him it is. " Now," he 
says, " will you show me your plans and specifications?" I 
refuse. He persists and I yield. He looks them over. " Now, 
sir," he says, " I see you intend to build a four-story frame 
house." 

I assure him he is correct. " Now, sir," he adds, " it is my 
official duty to serve upon you a notice that you can not build 
a frame house on this lot." I say, " This is a strange proceed- 
ing," and I talk about the Fourth of July and E Pluribus 
Unum, and the blood of our forefathers, and the stars and 
stripes, and the personal liberty of the individual citizen, and I 
say : "Things have come to a pretty pass, if on my own real 
estate I can not build any sort of a house I please." 

But I rave as long as I will, talk as loudly as I care to, I 
will run right up hard against a prohibition that within the 
fire-limits no frame building shall be erected. 

Now, when my friends talk, as they very likely will, about 
Prohibition interfering with the private rights of the individual 
citizen, they will not be discussing the question we are here to 
examine. Prohibition does not contemplate the individual 



108 Platform Pearls. 



drinking man. Prohibition does not propose to interfere with 
the private rights of any citizen. It takes a broad, comprehen- 
sive, statesmanhke view of the situation. Pi'ohibition must 
and will proliibit for the good of the people. 

— Prof. Samuel Dickie. 



81. THE PKESENT CRISIS.* 

We see dimly in the present what is small and what is great, 
Slow of faith how weak an ai-m may turn the iron helm of 

fate, 
But the soul is still oracular ; amid the market's din, 
List the ominous stern whisper from the Delphic cave with- 
in — 
" They enslave their children's children who make compro- 
mise with sin." 

Count me o'er earth's chosen heroes — they were souls that 

stood alone. 
While the men they agonized for hurled the contumelious 

stone, 
Stood serene and down the future saw the golden beam incline 
To the side of perfect justice, mastered by their faith divine, 
By one man's plain truth to manhood and to God's supreme 

design. 

By the light of burning heretics Christ's bleeding feet I track. 
Toiling up new Calvaries ever with the cross that turns not 

back, 
And these mounts of anguish number how each generation 

learned 
One new word of that grand Credo which in prophet-hearts 

hath burned 
Since the first man stood God-conquered with his face to 

heaven uptui-ned. 

For humanity sweeps onward ; where to-day the martyr stands. 
On the morrow crouches Judas with the silver in his hands ; 
Far in front the cross stands ready and the crackling fagots 

bum. 
While the hooting mob of yesterday in silent awe return 
To glean up the scattered ashes into history's golden urn. 



* By permission of Hoiigliton, Mifflin & Co. 



Platform Pearls. 109 



'Tis as easy to be heroes as to sit the idle slaves 
Of a legendary virtue carved upon our fathers' graves ; 
Worshippers of light ancestral make the present light a crime ; 
Was the Mayflower launched by cowards, steered by men be- 

liind their time? 
Turn those tracks toward past or future, that make Plymouth 

Rock sublime ? 

New. occasions teach new duties ; Time makes ancient good 

uncouth ; 
They must upward still, and onward, who would keep abreast 

of Truth ; 
Lo, before us gleam our campfires ! we ourselves must Pilgrims 

be. 
Launch our Mayflower, and steer boldly through the desperate 

winter sea, 
Nor attempt the Future's portal with the Past's blood-rusted 

key, — James Russell Lowell. 



82. A CURTAIN LEICTURE:. 

My wife and I had jest gone to bed, 
When a curtain lectur' to me she read : — 
" Ef I was a man," sez my wife to me, 
" I think I should be a man," sez she. 
" Why, wot is the matter, Jane ? " sez I. 
" Matter enough," was her reply. 
" I wouldn't go preachin' temperance 
An' votin' for hcense, both ter wunce ! 
I wouldn't Stan' up in church an' pray 
Fer the curse of drink to be took away ; 
Fer the Lord in marcy to look an' bless 
The needy widder an' fatherless. 
An' then march up to the polls nex' day 
An' vote jest eggsackly the other way ! 
I think I should have at my command 
At least jest a leetle grain of sand ; 
An' whenever a pollytishun showed 
His rum-blossom nose 'round my abode, 
An' commenced his blarney to get my vote, 
A-singin' the song he'd learnt by rote, 
I'd spunk up to him an' tell him wot 
I thought of him ; an' ez like ez not 



110 Platform Pearls. 



I'd jest peiiitely show him the door, 

An' mvite him to never call no more ! 

I think I'd know enough," sez Jane, 

*' When a rumseller works with might an' main 

To gain a p'int in the town elexshmi. 

To see that it wasn't jest my complexshun 1 ♦ 

An' what he wanted so awful bad 

Was the very thing he ortn't to have ; 

An' I'd work ag'in it, tooth an' nail, 

My motto, ' No such word as fail ! ' 

An' wouldn't care one cent in cash 

Ef the pubhcrat party went ter smash \ 

I'd hev my conshens clear an' sound — 

An' know I was treadin' on solid ground." 

" Ef I was a man," sez Jane, once more, 

But I had ah-eady begun to snore. 

I wasn't asleep, but then I meant 

She'd think I was ; for her argyment, 

I own, I couldn't quite answer it, 

Tho it struck right home to me, every bit, 

But Jane, she groaned when I didn't cheep, 

And then turned over and went to sleep. 

— Union Signal. 



83. the: first rsform. 

Before any reform can be secured, its friends must unite 
against the enemy of all reforms — the saloon. 

Would you secure ballot reform ? Prohibit first the liquor 
traffic, which degrades the citizen, corrupts the voter, and 
makes him the tool of pohticians for base poHtical ends. What 
profit would inure from a State printed and furnished ballot 
and secret voting, if the candidates are to be named by the 
saloon, platforms framed in a pothouse, and votes cast by a 
hand guided by a sodden brain ? 

Would you have civil service reform? Prohibit first the 
liquor traffic, which names the candidates for public office and 
corrupts the integrity of officers. Prohibit the saloon, through 
whose influence offices have become positions to which "no 
wage worker need apply," because he can not afford to "set 'em 
up for the boys " and control the slum vote. 

Would you abolish usury and monopolies P Prohibit first the 



Platform Pearls. Ill 



saloon, tlii-ough whose door monopoly and its purchased min- 
ions ascend to the throne of political power. 

Would you nationalize industry ? Prohibit first the liquor 
traffic, and let us have men who know what they want, how to 
get it, and how to keep it — men who can make a government 
in which every man's good will be each man's care, and an in- 
jury to one the concern of all. 

Prohibition is not a cure-all ; but so wide and beneficial is 
its operation that, with Prohibition once secured, the wage 
worker can rise to heights not otherwise accessible. 

Himself a king, in his family a Providence, in the factory 
a freeman, in politics a law maker, in society an equal and a 
brother. — John Lloyd Thomas. 



84. THE WHISKY DEACON. 

(After "The Bird With a Broken Pinion," and More Particularly After the 
Deacon.) 
I saw, in an opulent city, 

A church with a tapering spire, 
"With a most magnificent organ, 

And a highly salaried choir ; 
The singing was operatic, 

And the preaching was out of sight, 
And the deacon he climbed Mt. Pisgah, 

At the prayeop-meetings, Wednesday night I 
But when it came round to election. 

He voted for license then. 
And the church with the whisky deacon 

Never soared so high again. 

This church with the whisky deacon, 

As the wide awake citizens know. 
Can boast of its powerful revivals 

Away in the dim long ago ; 
Its shouts, they are all reminiscent. 

And its songs have a faraway tone, 
A good deal as if San Francisco 

Should sing to New York through the phone. 
I am glad that this church, in past ages, 

Had its hearty "Thank God ! " and " Amen I " 
But the church with the whisky deacon 

Never soared so high again. 



112 Platform Pearls. 



The church with the whisky deacon 

Sat and dreamed of the beautiful stars, 
All its membership riding to Heaven 

In Pullman and vestibule cars ; 
Their warm hearts were broken and bleeding 

For Armenia, torn by the Turk, 
And they got up a series of socials 

To rebuke such a horrible work. 
There are "bu'thdays," and "neckties," and "aprons, 

And " cobwebs," beyond mortal ken. 
But the church with the whisky deacon 

Never soared so high again. 

This church with the whisky deacon 

Was puzzled and mystified, sore, 
To understand why the great masses 

Should never swing open its door ; 
It baited the net of the gospel 

With barrels of good Sunday beer, 
Then, having such poor luck afishing 

Seemed most unaccountably queer ; 
Thus the groans of a languishing Zion 

Met the howls of the dive and the den, 
And the church with the whisky deacon 

Never soared so high again. 

But I afterward came to that city, 

And I foim^d what was left of the flock, 
Not even excepting the deacon. 

Had received a most wonderful shock ; 
They were praying, and shouting, and singing, 

And the people around there for miles. 
As if packed by Chicago's Phil Armour, 

Were jammed in the pews and the aisles ; 
The church rolls were rapidly filling 

With ti'ue hearted women and men ; 
Still the church with the old whisky deacon 

Never soared so high again. 



Under God, a reformer had done it, 
He swept, Uke a whirlwind, the town, 

And the Jericho walls took a tumble. 
And old Amalek had to come down : 



Platform Pearls. 113 



The deacon, he faithfully promised 

To vote Prohibition next fall, 
And the rest of the male members, ditto, 

Was the long and the short of it all ; 
But the drunkards to die in the parish 

Counted up to a hundred and ten ; 
So that church with the ex-whisky deacon 
. Never soars so high again. — Bev. P. J. Bull, 



85. SEIiF-GOVERNMENT.* 

This is said to be an American government of the people, 
by the people, and for the people. ... No such form of gov- 
ernment can be a successful government which does not in- 
volve self-government. A man who governs himself governs 
others. If he cannot govern himself, he is not fit to govern a 
dog. Then if this is a government of the people, by the people, 
and for the people, the first element of its success rests on the 
intelligence, the morality, the character of the masses, and it 
is the duty of the government to develop, foster, and support 
institutions which try to build up character, strengthen moral- 
ity, and develop intelligence. It is the duty of the government 
by the hand of law to suppress every institution which destroys 
character, ruins intelligence, and wrecks morality. Our free 
school system was developed by law, because of the necessity 
that the people of the United States should be intelligent. If 
we pay taxes to support our free schools and colleges, is it 
not the height of poUtical foUy and a blunder in political 
statesmanship to license antagonistic schools of vice and crime, 
from which the nation derives a revenue ? 

We can never have a pure ballot till we have a pure citizen- 
ship, and we can never have a pure citizenship until there are 
no more schools of vice making drunken devils of our men 
of intelligence. — John B. Finch. 

86. toe: core of the rum question. 

We hear much talk of the Maine law as interfering with 
men's natural rights, subjecting them to inquisitorial searches, 
reducing the profits of landlords, breaking up the business of 
distillers, etc. , but no man has ever yet asserted, as far as we 
have seen or heard, that crime, misery, pauperism, vagrancy, 

* From an address at Cooper Institute, Jan. 7, 1887. 



114 Platform Pearls. 



and the other fearfully increasing social evils of our time would 
be increased by the passage of the act demanded of our legis- 
latui'e by the prayer of over 200,000 petitioners. On the con- 
trary, if the rumsellers themselves were examined successively 
and compelled to make answer on oath, " Do you not ^lieve 
that our jails, prisons, and poorhouses would be largely depop- 
ulated by the passage of the Maine law ? " we believe a majority 
of them would be constrained to answer, " We do ! " 

Of what avail, then, are vague abstractions in the presence 
of such fearful facts as the rum traflSc involves ? Men in thou- 
sands are burning out their souls with the liquid madness, 
which fills their homes with unspeakable wretchedness and 
dooms their children to shame, destitution, and vice. Yet we 
stand pattering over foggy generalities as if it were a question 
concerning the rings of Saturn or the mountains in the moon. 

We protest against this cold-blooded way of viewing the 
matter. The question on which our legislators are called to 
pass in considering the Maine law concerns the happiness 
of families, the prevalence of vice or virtue, the safety of 
human life. Of the last hundred murders in oui' state, it is 
perfectly within bounds to say that 90 would never have been 
perpetrated but for intoxicating liquors. Of the 1,600 crimi- 
nals in our state prisons, fuUy seven-eighths are either the 
children of drunkards or themselves maddened by liquor when 
they were first impelled to crime. Of the 18,000 persons in one 
year arrested on charges of crime and misdemeanor, less than 
50 were total abstinents, while a large majority were excessive 
drinkers. Of the denizens of our almshouse, nine-tenths have 
either been tipplers or were reduced to want by the tippling of 
others. Our gaming houses and haunts of infamy float their 
victims to perdition on a river of strong drink, without which 
they could scarcely and but meagerly exist. Yet in full view 
of these appalUng facts, journahsts coolly chop logic about the 
perils of excessive legislation, the proneness of la^vmakers to 
intermeddle with what is none of their business, etc. They 
might as well call on our firemen to listen to a graceful and 
silvery-toned speech in the midst of a vast and spreading con- 
flagration. 

Patriot, you profess to love your country, and are ready to 
pour out your blood in her defense. But " he that ruleth his 
spirit is greater than he that taketh a city," and a people who 



Platform Pearls. 115 



have thoroughly conquered their own vicious appetites need 
fear no foreign enemy. The general adoption of the Maine 
law (Proliibition) by oui- states would add more to the strength, 
wealth, vigor, industry, and prosperity of our Union than a new 
Bunker Hill or half a dozen Buena Vistas. Help us, for your 
country's sake, to carry the Maine law ! 

Christians, when you pray '* thy kingdom come," do you 
really mean anything ? How is the kingdom of God to come 
except through the banishment and overthrow of social and 
moral evils ? Can it ever really come into a world filled with 
grogshops and their concomitants unless these shall be cleared 
out to make way for it ? How can you be indifferent or slug- 
gish in view of the contest now in progress ? 

Moralists of all creeds, reformers of all shades, philanthro- 
pists of every name or nature, we claim your assistance, we ask 
your earnest and active cooperation. The triumph of this cause 
requires effort and sacrifice, but it is richly worth them. Help 
us to carry the Maine law. 

— Horace Greeley in "New York Tribune,'^ Feb, 18, 1852, 



87. GENERAL. NEAL l>0\r. 

1804-1894. 
Maine bids her sons and daughters join 

With those who dwell in distant lands, 
In weaving fadeless garlands fair 
With loving hearts and willing hands, 
To crown her favorite son. 
To-day we honor him whose life 

Has proved a blessing to all men ; 
And scanning his past history. 
We find, at four-score years and ten 
No duty left undone. 

Faithful and loyal, true to right. 
He holds no compromise with wi-ong ; 

But with unbounded faith in God, 
And with a purpose firm and strong. 
He champions our cause. 

Behold him in our " Capitol halls"; 
And while the world with wonder looks, 

He pleads — he fails — at last lie ivins, 



116 Platform Pearls. 



And places on our statute books 

Maine's gi-andest law of laws ! 

Gaze on a picture dark and drear ; 

It is the Maine of years ago : 
Her wretched homes — her ruined farms, * 

Her bar-rooms dealing death and wo, 
Distilleries on her soil. 
From hillside, mountain, vale, and plain, 

Want spreads its gaunt and sallow wings ; 
While hard-earned dollars are exchanged 

For that which poisons, mocks, and stings 
Her hardy sons of toil. 

But, oh, how different is the scene 

Since Alcohol has ceased its reign ! 
Prosperity and happiness 

Are knoMTi on every hill and plain, 
Contentment now holds sway. 
Where once the old distillery stood 

And spread its ruin and disgrace, 
A church, a school, or home now stands, 

And love beams in each honest face, 

And hearts are light and gay. 
******* 

Heroic soul, from myriad hearts 

Who dwell upon Maine's sacred sod, 
Full many an earnest prayer goes forth 
In humble gratitude to God, 

That thou hast lived so long. 
The truly great can never die ; 

Their work is of the world a part ; 
And needs no record carved in stone. 
For 'tis enshrined in every heart. 
Immortalized in song ! 

— William Grant Brooks. 



88. GIVE THEM JUSTICE. 

Justice I Yes, give them justice. Surely every man must be 
anxious to give the liquor trade justice. The men in the busi- 
ness are men of intelligence and good judgment. They knew 
the results of the trade before entering it. No one compelled 



Platform Pearls. 117 



them to enter. Of their own free will they took up the fearful 
work, simply to make money out of the wretchedness and mis- 
ery of others. They are responsible as social units for their 
social acts. They would not be in the business if it were not for 
the fact that it is the most profitable of trades. When one 
knows the actuating motives of the drunkard makers, and then 
looks at the destitute homes and ruined families of their victims, 
the only conclusion that can be reached is that to do justice 
would be to repeat the Shy lock verdict, " Confiscation of i^rop- 
erty and death." But the wronged ones in this case are more 
merciful even than in that case, for they only ask that the 
guilty shall be stopped from continuing their crimes and are 
willing to leave with them all their ill-gotten gains. The 
liquor men ought to be happy to be let off so easily. The peo- 
ple only ask a verdict on the record that this accursed trade 
has made for itself. The ruined homes, the degraded men, the 
broken-hearted wives and beggared children made by the 
liquor dealers in theu" attempt to amass Avealth are w^itnesses in 
the case. The results of the traffic, as shown by the police 
court, the almshouse, the penitentiary, and the scaffold, must 
all be considered in making up a verdict. 

— John B. Finch. 



89. A "WARNING. 

There is a time when man will not suffer bad things, because 
their ancestors suffered worse. There is a time, when the hoary 
head of inveterate abuse will neither draw reverence, nor 
obtain protection. I do most seriously put it to the adminis- 
tration, to consider a timely reform. Early reformations are 
amicable arrangements with a friend in power ; late reforma- 
tions are terms imposed upon a conquered enemy. Early 
reformations are made in cool blood ; late reformations are 
made under a state of inflammation. In that state of things, 
the people behold in government nothing that is respectable. 
They see the abuse, and they will see nothing else. They fall 
into the temper of a furious populace, provoked at the dis- 
order of a house of ill-fame ; they never attempt to correct 
or regulate ; they go to work by the shortest way. They abate 
the nuisance, they pull down the house. — Edmund Burke. 



118 Platform Pearls. 



90. EFFECT OF MORAIi COWARDICE. 

There never has existed, and never can exist, either an 
administration or a pohtical party, that would dare trifle with 
the littered sentiments of the men of principle in the United 
States. ... If you ask me why it is, then, that public wrongs 
are so frequently done, and the doers of them held scathles*s, I 
answer, it is because those sentiments are not uttered. There 
exists among us a fear of avowing our moral sentiments upon 
political questions, which seems to me as servile as it is unac- 
countable. It envelopes society like a poisoned atmosphere. 
It is invisible and intangible, but every virtuous sentiment that 
breathes it grows torpid, loses consciousness, gasps feebly, and 
dies. Our sentiments are worthless, not to say savoring of 
hypocrisy, unless they lead us to corresponding action. To 
this result every man contributes who withholds the expres- 
sion of his honest indignation on every occasion of pubhc 
wrongdoing. — Francis Wayland. 



91. PRACTISE VERSUS PROFESSION. 

To license the hquor traffic is to legalize it. Therefore, if 
it be a sin to license the liquor traffic, and if we, by our votes, 
uphold the license policy, then are we partakers of this sin. 
We, the ministers and members of the Methodist Episcopal 
Church, can not support a party ' ' committed to the hcense 
policy, or that refuses to stand in open hostility to the saloon." 
A Christian man can not vote with a whisky party, can not 
support its candidates, can not be a party to the iniquity of the 
liquor-license business. We deeply regret that the practise of 
the majority of the church is so far in the rear of its profes- 
sion. Its profession of hostility to the saloon stands in the 
front line of progress, while its practise, when the battle of bal- 
lots is joined, is eminently conservative. 

We say we can not support a party "committed to the 
license pohcy," yet the votes of the vast majority of our mem- 
bership are cast for political parties distinctly committed to the 
license policy. "Brethren, these things ought not so to be." 
We as a church insist upon the Bible law of divorce ; let us 
continue to prosecute with renewed zeal, in the old Gospel 
court of equity, the writ of pohtical divorcement of the church 
as libelant and the saloon as respondent. What God hath not 
joined together, let the church of God put asunder. 



Platform Pearls. 119 



Our efforts as Christian ministers in prosecuting the work 
of temperance reform should be mainly in the church. For the 
time is come that judgment must begin at the house of God. 

— From report adopted by the Erie Conference of the 
Methodist Episcopal Church. 



92. WHICH ARE YOU? 

There are two kinds of people on earth to-day, 
Just two kinds of people, no more, I say. 

Not the sinner and saint, for 'tis well understood 
The good are half -bad, and the bad are half -good. 

Not the rich and the poor, for to count a man's wealth 
You must first know the state of his conscience and health. 

Not the humble and proud, for in life's little span 
Who puts on vain airs is not counted a man. 

Not the happy and sad, for the swift flying years 
Bring each man his laughter and each man his tears. 

No ; the two kinds of people on earth I mean 
Are the people who lift, and the people who lean. 

Wherever you go, you will find the world's masses 
Are always divided in just these two classes. 

And oddly enough you will find too, I ween, 
There is only one lifter to twenty who lean. 

In which class are you ? Are you easing the load 
Of overtaxed lifters who toil down the road ? 

Or are you a leaner, who lets others bear 
Your portion of labor and worry and care ? 
— Ella Wheeler Wilcox, in her book, "Easter, and Other 
Poems.^'' 



93. Alil. THE RIOHTS SHE WANTS. 

She's got the right to handle a broom, 
And why does she want any more ? 

She may wash the dishes till day of doom, 
And why does she want any more ? 

She's got the right to cook and to scrub, 

To play the piano, or rub-a-dub-dub 



120 Platform Pearls. 



In a lowlier sphere, at the laundry tub — 
And why does she want any more ? 

She's got the right to teach and to sew. 
And why does she want any more ? 

(She's only two-thirds of a teacher, tho, 
And she mustn't ask any more.) 

She may rock the cradle and mend the hose, 

And solace her mind with dreams of clothes ; 

Or else to the Woman's Page she goes — 
And how can she want any more ? 

She's got the right to a clerk's employ — 

And how can she ask any more ? 
To take the place of a younger boy — 

She mustn't ask any more. 
The right to labor as hard as she can, 
"Wherever they cannot afford a man, 
And to get her pay on the haK-rate plan. 
She mustn't ask any more. 

She's got the right to a student's hat ; 

Now, how can she want any more ? 
But somebody had to fight for that. 

And she mustn't want any more. 
She's got the right to a choice of schools, 
And to quite a respectable lot of tools, 
Such as have never been used by fools — 

She can not want any more. 

She's got the right to a soul — Oh, yes ! 

And why does she want any more ? 
The right to be pious for two, I guess. 

Could any one ask for more ? 
She may hear the brethren preach and pray, 
She may serve the Lord in a quiet way. 
With schemes for raising the parson's pay — 

And why does she want any more ? 

She's got the right to be taxed — or hung — 

And nobody can have more ! 
She isn't forbidden to use her tongue ; 

And she never can want any more. 
And she has her representative now, 



Platform Pearls. 121 



A piece of a man — somewhere, somehow — 
Mixed up in all the political row — 
And how can she want any more ? 

But ah ! how manners and times do change ! 

Somebody's asking for more ! 
Something has happened that's utterly strange, 

Somebody's asking for more ! 
O Oliver Twist ! Can it verily be 
Your name is Olive ? And what do I see ? 
A dreadful, unfeminine, malapert She, 

Actually asking for more ! — Carl Spencer. 



94. DOES IT PAY? 

Standing on a corner in this city not long ago I counted 14 
doors leading to as many places of business in the block on the 
opposite side of the street. Three doors led to clothing stores, 
one to a millinery establishment, one to a barber shop, one to 
a telegraph office, and another to a bank. The other seven led 
to where strong drink is sold. Four places where the outer 
man and woman may be clothed, one place where the man may 
be shaved so as to look respectable and neat in his new clothes, 
one place through which he may send urgent messages and 
from which the daily papers receive their intellectual freight to 
place before the community, and one place where the savings of 
labor may be deposited when the wants of the home are supplied. 
It takes seven doors, seven places of business, to do all of this for 
the outer man. I came near forgetting to say that the bank 
occupies the floor above the barber shop and telegraph office. 
The other seven doors lead to where the inner man is supplied 
with that which deprives him of clothing, his wife of her bon- 
net, his children of their clothing and shoes. In any one of the 
seven will he find that which will reduce him to such depths of 
degradation that he will not care whether he shaves or not ; in- 
deed, he will not have the dime to give to the barber and no 
money to deposit in the bank above. Seven doors to open on 
those who clothe themselves and families, and seven other doors 
in the same block where memory, self-respect, honor, gratitude, 
and everything a man can esteem are w^ashed into the sewer 
fed by crime and ending in oblivion. 

As I stood contemplating the spectacle a young man crossed 
the street from one of the places where wet goods are sold and 



122 Platform Pearls. 



on recognizing me extended his hand in greeting. He wore an 
old well-worn suit of clothing. His coat was the counterpart 
of many the reader has seen in his time; it was sun-burned, short 
in sleeve and tail and well frayed out where the edges were not 
worn off altogether. No overcoat, no overshoes, no collar ajid 
no cuffs save those which misfortune, bad habits, and a w^orse 
appetite had administered to him. He asked for a nickel to 
pay for a ride home on a street car. I knew that a man who 
felt as tho he could fly did not want to ride on a street car, 
even tho it were propelled by electricity, and told him so. In- 
quiry elicited the following facts : He is a mechanic, but has 
not worked steadily for three years owing to intemperate 
habits. The suit of clothing he wore that night was three years 
old, his wages when at work were $3.75 a day, and he had an 
aged mother and helpless sister depending on him for support. 
He had lost during that month eight days for the reason that 
he "was on a breeze." His wages for the eight days would 
amount to $32. He informed me that it was no uncommon 
thing for him to lose a whole month through intemperance. 
Had he been a total abstainer he would have purchased at 
least three suits of clothing instead of one in the three years, 
and a very good suit can be had for $20. In eight days he 
had lost $3 more than would provide him with a suit of clothes, 
but for three years his shadow did not rest on the floor of a 
clothing establishment. He buys no papers, contributes noth- 
ing to assist his neighbor, is himself an applicant for relief at 
the hands of the humane residents of the city who have organ- 
ized a relief committee, for his name appears in the list of 
those who were served. Had he been sober and steady he would 
have purchased clothing and given employment to the tailor 
and cloth manufacturer. Had he remained sober he woiild 
have laid carpet on his mother's floor and kept the loom in 
motion a little while longer ; had he remained outside of the 
saloon he would have read the papers and would know what 
his labor was worth, and as a consequence he would not drift 
into the ranks of the vicious and improvident from which 
Pinkertons are recruited in times of trouble. In eight days $33 
were lost to labor, and in the loss industry received a shock 
which, tho slight in itself, became an earthquake when added 
to the hundreds of thousands of others like it as they occur in 
our centers of industry every year. 



Platform Pearls. 123 



When workmen who desire to provide for their families in 
decency and comfort ask for an advance in their wages, they 
are told very often that money thus advanced is squandered, 
and such men as the one I described are pointed to as illustra- 
tions of what workmen degenerate into on an advance in 
wages. The fault, the example, of one drunkard has an evil 
effect on the prospects of hundreds of industrious workmen 
who do not drink. Is not industry the loser through the saloon ? 
When the industrious of the community must contribute to 
support the family of the drunkard — and they do it in every 
community — is not industry the loser and sufferer through 
the saloon? When intemperate men are driven to want by 
their bad habits and thrown out of employment, is not industry 
the loser when the workers have to support the idlers through 
taxation on one hand, and face them, in the shape of Pinker- 
tons, on the other, when they demand higher wages with 
which to meet the extra drains upon their resources ? If one 
man in a small village is a drunkard, he is also an idler, for 
sooner or later he loses self-respect and employment. If he 
does not support himself some one else is forced to do so, and I 
know of no community in which a helpless wife and children will 
be permitted to want, no matter how worthless the husband 
and father may be. If the family is dependent on the charity 
of the neighbors, is not that a tax on them, and is it not a reduc- 
tion in the wages of every workman who has to contribute to 
the support of the drunkard's family? Is not industry the 
loser when the saloon is permitted to make of every home an 
asylum and of every sober, careful man an almsgiver ? 

— Terence V. Powderly. 

95. TO-MORROW.* 

High hopes that burned like stars sublime, 

Go down the heavens of freedom, 
And true hearts perish in the time 

We bitterliest need them. 
But never sit we down and say, 

There's nothing left but sorrow ; 
We walk the wilderness to-day, 

The promised land to-morrow. 



* This poem was a favorite with Gen. Fisk, and he frequently quoted from 
it. On his death bed he recited the first stanza to show his faith iu the ultimate 
triumph of the Prohibition cause. 



124 Platform Pearls. 



Our birds of song are silent now, 

There are no flowers blooming — 
But life beats in the frozen bough, 

And freedom's spring is coming ; 
And freedom's tide comes up alway, 

Tho we may strand in sorrow ; 
And our good barque, aground to-day, 

Shall float again to-morrow. 

Our hearts brood o'er the past, our eyes 

With smiling futures ghsten ; 
Lo ! now its dawn bursts up the sky — 

Lean out your souls and listen. 
The earth rolls freedom's radiant way, 

And ripens with our sorrow ; 
And 'tis the martyrdom to-day 

Brings victory to-morrow. 

'Tis weary watching wave by wave, 

And yet the tide heaves onward. 
We climb, like corals, grave by grave, 

Yet beat a pathway sunward. 
We're beaten back in many a fray, 

Yet newer strength we borrow. 
And where our vanguard rests to-day 

Our rear shall rest to-morrow. 

Through all the long, dark night of years, 

The people's cry ascended ; 
The earth was wet with blood and tears, 

Ere their meek sufferings ended. 
The few shall not forever sway. 

The many toil in sorrow ; 
The bars of hell are sti'ong to-day, 

But Chi-ist shall reign to-morrow. 

Then youth flame earnest, still aspire 

With energies immortal ; 
To many a haven of desire 

Your yearning opes a portal ; 
And though age wearies by the way 

And hearts break in the furrow. 
We sow the golden grain to-day — 

The harvest comes to-morrow. — Gerald Massey. 



Platform Pearls. 125 



96. lilQUOR AND \»^AGES. 

It is frequently stated in labor circles that drinking helps to 
keep up wages. On the plea that the average wages of labor 
tend to the sum just sufficient to supply the workman and his 
family with the necessities of life, it is claimed that cutting off 
the drink bill, which many workingmen regard as a sort of 
necessity, would tend to reduce average wages by just the 
amount which the workingman now spends for drink. There 
might be some truth in this claim were alcoholic drinks in the 
nature of actual necessities, and were the effects of drink pro- 
ductive of strength, health, and comfort, such as are the effects 
of food, clothing, shelter, etc. As it is, however, drinking 
tends to decrease instead of increase average wages. 

And it does it in just this way : Habitual drinking, as most 
will admit, whether the drinker gets drunk or not, tends to 
stupefy, and brutalize, and benumb the finer faculties and de- 
sires. To just the extent which drink so stupefies, brutalizes, 
and benumbs, the drinker loses the desire to gratify the mani- 
fold and many-sided finer part of his nature. To illustrate, 
how much less does the habitual drinker care for pictures, 
music, books, lectures, and a hundred similar features of the 
best modern life than the man who abstains from alcoholic 
poison? With the loss or partial loss of such higher desires 
comes a lessened demand for better food, better clothing, better 
shelter, and better surroundings — all of which cost more 
money than poor food, poor clothes, poor shelter, and poor sur- 
roundings. But the better food, clothing, shelter, and sur- 
roundings come to be regarded by the abstainer, who has cul- 
tivated his finer nature, as actual necessities of life. When, 
therefore, we have as wageworkers an army of abstainers de- 
manding these more expensive necessities, if it be true that 
wages tend to the level which will supply necessities, then 
wages must increase correspondingly to that of the increased 
cost of the necessities. 

The drunken workman also tends powerfully to lower 
wages when he forces his wife and children out to service in 
order to help support the family. Everywhere the cry is going 
up that women and children are forcing down the wages of 
able-bodied men. 

Let the wageworker then hesitate not to boycott sti'ong 
drink. All the cumulative power of many-sided manhood is 



126 Platform Pearls. 



on the side of abstinence. Not the least of this power will be 
the ability to hold with firm grasp the principles underlying 
the social evolution, and to apply those principles in disciphned 
cooperation for the advancement of the masses. 

— C. De F. Ho^ie 

97. MERRY CHRISTMAS ! 

Merry, because the brotherhood of man, taught by Him 
whose bu'th we celebrate, is more than ever before recognized 
as the ideal of those who pray, "Thy kingdom come on earth 
as it is in heaven. " Merry, because a day is dawning when the 
meek who work for the good of their fellows, instead of the 
warlike who trample upon them, shall inherit the earth. Mer- 
ry, because the peacemakers are looking to a time — not so far 
distant, let us hope — when even industrial strife shall cease, 
and all who contribute toward the world's wealth and happi- 
ness shall receive their just share of the world's cheer, even as 
"the children of God." Merry, for then, indeed, shall the 
mourners find comfort and the hungry be filled. 

Merry Christmas, because the common people of our land 
are fast coming to the conclusion that a government of the 
people and for the people must embody first and foremost the 
principles of the Golden Rule, and that a State wliich licenses 
men to poison its subjects comes far short of the ideal of a 
Christian commonwealth. 

So every Christmas day finds this old world in spirit, if not 
in action, nearer the Clii'istmas ideal. It is the Cliristmas spirit 
wliich must finally triumph in spite of old habit, iron-bound 
custom, and unwise law. 

Once again, "Merry Christmas ! " — The Voice. 



98. THE FXJNDAMENTAI. REFORM. 

there's a better time coming — AN ALLEGORY FOR 
REFORMERS. 

Many long years ago a great ship set sail for the Port of 
Happiness, and on her voyage she ran aground in the darkness. 
But the passengers took no notice of it, and the officers, seeing 
that they would be blamed, denied that there was anything 
wrong. The weeds and barnacles grew about her so that it 
seemed that she had always stood still. As for the crew, they 
said, "What do we care if only we get our daily pay?" But 



Platform Pearls. 127 



the ship was straining and in danger of going to pieces. She 
pounded heavily upon the sand. " Those noises," said the cap- 
tain, "are strikes. We have always had such troubles." 

One day a fisherman came down to the coast, and when he 
saw the ship he began to push at it, while the passengers 
laughed at him. Others passed by, and to them he called, 
"Come and help us." And now and then one did join him. 
The officers said : "These people are disturbers of the peace. 
They must be arrested." And others said : "If you push the 
ship off, no one knows where she will go nor what will be- 
come of her." 

Then a passenger stood up and shouted to those who 
worked: "You fools, your intentions are good, but you are 
ahead of the times. The wind is against you." The fisherman 
answered, "Yes, but the tide is rising." And still he cried 
aloud. Some of the passengers came and helped him push, and 
the timbers cracked. "That," said the ship's doctor, "is the 
necessary strife of nature." And some of those who were on 
board grew sick in the hot rays of the sun, so that their groans 
annoyed the officers, and they put them in the hold. 

He who pushed cried out, "The Kingdom of God is at 
hand." They did not understand at all, so they put him to 
death. 

Yet the commotion attracted many, and now and then one 
left his work and shoved or hauled or pried with a lever, or 
fastened a float under the ship. And some, tho meaning to 
strengthen the ship, fastened weights on its sides. These they 
called other reforms and charities. They said : " It is Utopian 
to try to get the ship off. Let us make the people as comforta- 
ble as possible, so that they will be quiet." 

And as they worked wearily and almost discouraged, a wind 
from God came out of the West, and when all pushed the great 
ship moved off, and behold, it was almost in sight of the 
kingdom. 



And many of those who were pushing died in the chill 
water, and some were drowned and many forgotten. But 
their names are written in the book of remembrance of Him 
who cried, " The Kingdom of God is at hand." 

— BoUon Hall 



128 Platform Pearls. 



99. A CASE FOR CHARITY. 

He was out at the elbows and out at the knees. 

But he had an old pipe in his mouth. 
He was worse than a ragman by several degrees, 

But he had an old pipe in his mouth. ^ 

He was out of a job, and his plans had all failed, 
He was " down in the mouth," and his luck he bewailed, 
At tlie rich man he swore, at monopoly railed — 

But he kept that old pipe in his mouth. 

He was woful and shabby and hungry and lame. 

But he had his old pipe in his mouth. 
He had saved little money — he was not to blame. 

For he must have a pipe in his mouth. 
He would "go out to market " — an everyday joke, 
And you knew what he'd say ere a sentence he spoke, 
*'A penny for bread and five cents for a smoke," 

Oh, he must have that pipe in his mouth ! 

His wife sewed by lamplight, to drive the wolf hence 
(And to keep that old pipe in his mouth), 

And he said between puffs : " We must cut our expense," 
But he kept that old pipe in his mouth. 

Kind Charity, come, without further delay, 

Tliis woman may die — what will happen, then, pray ? 

Here's a case you must help. Shall I tell you the way ? 
Just take that old pipe from his mouth ! 

— Hattie Horner Louthan. 



100. THE DAWN OF MERCY.* 

The history of the world from the time when the first mui'- 
derer swung his brutal club, until now, is largely a record of 
suffering inflicted by man. So-called heroic deeds of conquer- 
ors, hideous punishments inflicted by tyrants, and ever-recur- 
ring instances of love of revenge and thirst for blood, occupy 
much space in the chronicles of ancient times ; in the history 
of the Middle Ages, and in that of succeeding centuries. 

One reads with a throb of pity and of horror of those im- 
happy days, when even the wise and virtuous, distracted with 



* From address delivered before the Second Triennial Session of the Na- 
tional Council of Women of the United States, in Metzerott's Music Hall, Wash- 
ington, D. C, Feb. 27, 1895. 



Platform Pearls. 129 



anxiety and terror, found life so unendurable that in many 
cases they gladly welcomed an opportunity to end it. Men 
were afraid of knowing each other ; even silence was a crime, 
and even natural affection. Tacitus states that the Roman 
Senate actually put to death a woman of advanced age because 
she wept for her son who had been executed. The age was a 
carnival of death and torture, and the general murmur was, 
'• Will there ever be a day unpolluted with blood ? " 

But in a small corner of Rome's great empire was soon to 
be enacted a drama which began an era in human history, and 
which has exercised an ineradicable influence on the morals of a 
large proportion of the human race. That drama was the per- 
fect life and the malefactor's death of one who founded a 
strange new sect which preached the gospel of love ; of peace 
and of good will ; and whose central principle of action was 
the Golden Rule. The simple, yet matchless record of the 
words and acts of Chi'ist and of His followers, has for 1800 
years been the guide of that portion of the human race to which 
the world owes all that is highest in literature and art, all that 
is best in invention, wisest in statesmanship, in benevolence and 
in social reform. Even limited and imperfect adherence to the 
Christian standard has brought the world's civilization to what 
it is. When dissension arose among the early Christians, it was 
because the precepts of the Author of Christianity were disre- 
garded ; in the centuries when the theological differences re- 
sulted in persecution rivalling that of paganism, it was because 
those who sought to drive their fellow-men forgot the exqui- 
site gentleness of Him who said, " Come unto me," and men 
were cruel then and are cruel now because His command, " Be 
ye therefore merciful as your Father also is merciful," has been 
uncomprehended and disregarded. The earth is still a dark 
place of cruelty where His spirit is not. The bent of the human 
is toward selfishness and cruelty except as it is opened to the 
touch of the Divine. Christ's professed followers and those 
whose admiration of His example lead them to fight sin and 
evil, should lay the ax to the root, and work to promote uni- 
versally the law of kindness and of mercy, recognizing that 
cruelty is the worst thing in the world. Show me a sin that 
you think worse than cruelty, and 1 will show you that it is bad 
in proportion to its cruelty, present or prospective. Wrongs 
which most infringe right are wrongs which most infringe 



130 Platform Pearls. 



rights. Is it conceivable that any human being who had been 
systematically and thoroughly ti-ained to be kind would so in- 
fringe the rights of liis neighbor's family as to sell him that 
which may turn him into a drunkard ? Is it conceivable that 
if he were kind he would sell his neighbor that which may turn 
him into a fiend of cruelty to human beings and dumb brutes ? 
None ought to work harder than temperance reformers to pro- 
mote the law of kindness, and none ought to work harder than 
the humane to promote temperance reform. 

— Mrs. Mary F. Lovell. 



101. THE LEVEIi OF CIVILIZATION. 

The LondonTimes proclaimed, twenty years ago, that intem- 
perance produced more idleness, crime, want, and misery, 
than all other causes put together ; and the Westminster 
Review calls it a " curse that far eclipses every other calamity 
under which we suffer." Gladstone, speaking as Prime Minis- 
ter, admitted that ' ' gi'eater calamities are inflicted on mankind 
by intemperance than by the three great historical scom-ges — 
war, pestilence, and famine." DeQuincy says, "The most re- 
markable instance of a combined movement in society which 
history, perhaps, will be summoned to notice, is that which, in 
our day, has applied itself to the abatement of intemperance. 
Two vast movements are hurrying into action by velocities 
continually accelerated — the great revolutionary movement 
from political causes concurring with the great physical move- 
ment in locomotion and social intercourse from the gigantic 
power of steam. At the opening of such a crisis had no third 
movement arisen of resistance to intemperate habits, there 
would have been ground of despondency as to the mehoration 
of the human race." These are English testimonies, where the 
State rests more than half on bayonets. Here we are trying to 
rest the ballot-box on a drunken people. "We can rule a 
great city," said Sir Robert Peel, " America can not" ; and he 
cited the mobs of New York as sufficient proof of his assertion. 

Thoughtful men see that up to this hour the government of 
great cities has been with us a failure ; that worse than the 
dry-rot of legislative corruption, than the rancor of party 
spirit, than Southern barbarism, than even the tyranny of 
incorporated wealth, is the giant burden of intemperance, 
making universal suffrage a failure and a curse in every great 



Platform Fearls. 131 



city. Scholars who play statesmen, and editors who masquer- 
ade as scholars, can waste much excellent anxiety that clerks 
shall get no office until they know the exact date of Caesar's 
assassination, as well as the latitude of Pekin, and the Rule of 
Three. But while this crusade — the temperance movement — 
has been, for sixty years, gathering its facts and marshalling 
its arguments, rallying parties, besieging legislatures and putting 
great States on the witness-stand as evidence of the soundness 
of its methods, scholars have given it nothing but a sneer. 
But if universal suffrage ever fails here for a time — perma- 
nently it can not fail — it will not be incapable civil service, 
nor an ambitious soldier, nor Southern vandals, nor venal leg- 
islatures, nor the greed of wealth, nor boy statesmen rotten 
before they are ripe, that will put universal suffrage into 
eclipse ; it wiU be rum entrenched in great cities and command- 
ing every vantage ground. 

Social science affirms that woman's place in society marks 
the level of civiKzation. From its twilight in Greece, through 
the Italian worship of the Virgin, the dreams of chivalry, the 
justice of the civil law, and the equality of French society, we 
trace her gradual recognition; while our common law, as Lord 
Brougham confessed, was, with relation to women, the opprobri- 
um of the age and of Christianity. For forty years, plain men 
and women, working noiselessly, have washed away that oppro- 
brium ; the statute books of thirty States have been remodelled, 
and woman stands to-day almost face to face with her last claim 
— the ballot. It has been a weary and thankless, tho success- 
ful, struggle. But if there be any refuge from that ghastly 
curse, the vice of great cities — before which social science 
stands palsied and dumb — it is in this more equal recognition 
of woman. If, in this critical battle for universal suffrage — 
our fathers' noblest legacy to us, and the greatest trust God 
leaves in our hands — there be any weapon, which, once taken 
from the armory, will make victory certain, it will be, as it 
has been in art, literature, and society, summoning woman into 
the political arena. — Wendell Phillips. 



102. THE GREATEST MISSIONARY NEED. 

We hear from missionaries that there are open fields call- 
ing for Gospel light. " China and Corea asking for more mis- 
sionary teachers." India, Africa, and the islands of the sea 



132 Platform Pearls. 



are in need of more missionaries mid less rum from Christian 
America. The cry comes to us from Turkey, where in Armenia 
ten thousand Chi-istians have been brutally butchered during 
the last year by Mohammedan swords ; from the Freedmen of 
the South and the Indians of the West, both in need of 
churches and schools, while we have young men and women 
educated for this work, and many generous hearts daily 
responding to the call for means to support them. 

Yes ! let us send forth these missionaries. Let us send 
them, with the American flag, and these American institu- 
tions, the church and the school, that they may plant them 
abroad, and in our own South and West. But there is one 
American institution that was not included in the recent 
appeals for more help. That institution is protected by the 
American flag, and stands as a barrier to every Christian enter- 
prise. It stands in the very gateway of our land. At Ellis 
Island, for ten thousand dollars paid annually to our govern- 
ment by a single man, strong drink is forced upon emigrants 
at high prices, when many of them would gladly choose good 
water if they could get it. Is it any wonder that emigrants 
are ready to go into the liquor business to recover the money 
thus wrung from them under the very torch of liberty ? 

Take the American flag, and those American institutions, the 
church and the schoolhouse, and plant them in the South and 
West, and another can take the same flag and that American 
institution, the legalized saloon, plant it beside the church and 
school, and send more souls to perdition than the others can 
save. 

Legalized iniquity in this land of ours destroys tenfold more 
victims than Mussulman swords in Armenia, and with quite as 
fiendish cruelty. All the horrors of heathen lands pale into 
insignificance when compared with this institution of Chris- 
tian America maintained by the hand of Christian citizens in 
their idolatrous worship of corrupt political parties, whose 
victims number about one hundred and twenty-five thousand 
annually. 

How can we Christianize heathen lands until we receive 
sufficient Gospel light to keep us from being a part of such a 
worse than barbarous system ? 

In China's determined struggle to keep out English opium, 
it was a well-known principle of the Chinese government not 



Platform Pearls. 133 



to license what they condemned as immoral ; and the mandarin 
who advised that a tax and a heavy duty be laid on opium as a 
measure of expediency was promptly banished to Tartary as a 
suitable reward for his infamous proposition. It would be 
well for Christian America if those who advocate the same 
policy of legalized iniquity were compelled to share the same 
fate. The Chinese glory in the superiority of their own govern- 
ment as to principle, and scorn the Christian governments that 
tolerate these vices for the sake of public revenue. It was 
declared by the high commissioner of China that tho the oar 
should break in his hand, or the boat should sink from beneath 
him, yet would he not stay his efforts until his work, the expul- 
sion of opium, was accomplished. 

The Chinese are a practical people, and glory in their ethical 
teachings. Christianity, as it comes to them, must Hkewise 
be intensely practical, proving its innate worth by presenting, 
above all else, a morality superior in theory and practise to 
that which they already have. With what an awful force 
must these facts appeal to the logical, intelligent Celestial ! 
The moral debt which Christian lands owe to China can never 
be computed. — A. Morehouse. 



103. THE DIFFERENCE. 

What a difference Prohibition will make to thousands of 
women who have now only the wretched rooms with bare 
floor, whose gaps and splinters are only rendered more manifest 
by sweeping ; mangled furniture, whose dents and scratches 
are only more hopelessly revealed by dusting ; the dingy win- 
dow, which, if cleaned, only shows a dingier alley ; the faded 
and ragged calico dress for both morning and evening ; little 
food to cook and less fire to cook it with ; children chiefly 
thought of as creatures with appetites that can not be satisfied 
and bodies that can not be clothed ; not a picture, book, or paper 
to furnish a story to read them or a fresh thought to talk over 
with them ; the husband daily growing coarser, duller, and 
more purposeless ; the certainty that to-morrow shall be as this 
day and much more disconsolate ; that if business improves it 
will give only so much more to go into the maw of the re- 
morseless saloon ! 

But Proliibition crystallizes faith into " the things needful 
for the body." It puts this oppressed woman into a comfort 



IM Platform Pearls. 



able home. It puts on the floor a bright carpet, pretty if 
cheap, curtains at the windows, simple furniture that is neat, 
trim, and strong, and some of the really beautiful pictures that 
modem art makes so inexpensive upon the walls. Now she 
%\dll find a perfect joy in sweeping the last speck off that garpet, 
dusting the furniture till it shines, keeping the windows clear 
as a mountain stream. When she wishes to get dinner, there 
is a stove that will cook and fuel to put in it. In the pantry 
there is a sack of flour and her httle jar of sugar, and all the 
spices and sundries that a good housewife needs. In her purse 
there's the money to make the market stall a promise and not 
a despair. How she will slave at that cooking because " John 
is fond of this," and " those will taste so good to the children ! " 
She will not know that she is hot or tired. When she would 
sit down to her sewing, she can change the neat working dress 
of the morning for a pretty home dress for afternoon. She 
will take some pains to make herself a fair portion of the pretty 
home scene. "WTien she goes to work on the children's clothes, 
there's something to make the little garments out of. She will 
hear songs of hope in the hum of her sewing-macliine, and 
there will be a light in her eyes and a song on her own lips. 
How the children's eyes will brighten and their faces sliine ! 
How strong they will be for play and how ambitious for study ! 
How dear their home will be to them ! How the hght of love 
and peace and joy will make then- faces beautiful ! 

Then all around, among the people who were never intem- 
perate, the wave of this prosperity will sweep. The stores and 
the mills, the railroads and the mines, the ships and the farms 
— all who produce or transport or deal in the goods wliich these 
rescued families are now able to buy — will share the blessing. 
With a city, a nation, of such homes, every business will boom, 
aU our nation prospering and exulting through the two thou- 
sand million revenue of righteousness ! Wlio would not help 
to bring the happy, glorious day ? Wliat true heart will not 
bid us God-speed as we toil to hasten its coming? 

— Bev. James C. Fernald. 



104. FliO^ER MISSION. 

A message rings from the quiet place 

Wliere a soul grows white under touch of pain ; 
And frail, fair liands with a tender grace 



Platform Pearls. 135 



Are holding a loss that has turned to gain — 
Turned into gain for the hearts that sigh, 

For feet which stumbled and went astray ; 
For lives that wrecked when the storm swept by, 

Are shut from the light of the common day. 

The call rings softly from gentle lips 
That ready grow for the Angel's song, 

Sweet as the note of the lark that dips 
Her wing at the brook, when the night grows long ; 

And souls that are loving, and hearts that pray, 
Shall heed the message that comes to-day. 

Go ye and gather 

The blossoms of June, 
Eare in their glory. 

And sweet with perfume ; 
Gather the splendor 

Of summer's gi'een bowers ; 
Dawns with its mission 

The day of the flowers. 

Stately or lowly, from garden or mead, 
Lo, for your garlands the Master has need. 
Not for the hall where the banquet is spread, 
Not for the feast where the wine floweth red, 
Not for the bridal of beauty and youth, 
Not for the plighting of honor and truth. 
Not for the brows of the children that play. 
Not for the hands that are lifeless as clay, 
Gathered to-day are the flowers that bloom, 
Glowing with light, at the heart of June. 

Their splendor shall shine on an altar place 

Where even at noon the shadows fall, 
Where time creeps by with a leaden pace, 

And men make moans at a prison wall ; 
They come to hands that are touched with crime, 

To hearts grown weary with wrath and tears, 
To lives shut in by a burning line 

That holds its judgment across the years. 

The fragrance shall come with breath of love. 
To the homesick souls that went astrav : 



136 Platform Pearls. 



Shall cool the fever and lift above 

The thought of the watcher that longs for day. 
O God ! Wherever the shadows fall 

On any who suffer, or those that sin, 
May rose and lily make plain to ail, 

A path where the Christ may enter in. 

— Mary T. Lathrap. 



105. WHAT IS FAITH? 

Men have strange ideas of God's dealings with us, and of 
faith in Him. What is faith ? To walk right on to the edge of 
the precipice, and then stop ? No, walk on ! What, set my feet 
upon nothing ? Yes, upon nothing, if it is in the path of duty ; 
boldly set your feet on nothing, and a solid rock, firm as the 
everlasting hills, shall meet your feet at every step you take in 
the path of duty, only do it imwaveringly and in faith. What 
we have to do is to settle the point that we are right ; and then 
onward. 

You remember when the children of Israel went out of 
Egypt, when they were a band of escaped fugitives. Their 
ranks were encumbered with many women and childi-en, and 
their mighty, but meek, leader was armed only w^ith a rod. 
Here come the chariots and horsemen of Pharaoh, treading on 
their very shadow. A pillar of fire went before the Israelites 
by night, and a pillar of cloud by day ; and they marched till 
they came to the shores of the Red Sea, and then — what? 
Read the magnificent narrative. And the Lord God said unto 
]\Ioses from out of the cloud, " Speak to the children of Israel 
that they go forward." That was the only command. How 
can they go forward ? There is no other command for them ; 
but to Moses came these words : " Stretch forth thy rod,'' and 
the way opened. God never yet gave us a duty to do but he 
opened the way for us when we were ready to do it. He never 
yet gave an impossible command. So Moses stretched forth 
his rod and the water stood in heaps. Tramp, tramp, tramp 
went the three millions over the bed of the sea, and their ene- 
mies came in after them in the night-time. Now, what? 
"Forward!" "But our enemies are in the rear." ^'For- 
ward .^ " " Yes, but before us is — we know not what — and 
the waters are on either side." ^^ Forward !''' "Yes, but we 
can feel the very breath of the horses upon our necks, and hear 



Platform Pearls. 137 



the chariot wheels gi'ind in the shingle as they pursue us.' 
''Forward l'' "Yes, but we must defend our wives and lit- 
tle ones." ''Forward !'' And the pillar that went before 
them passed over and stood in their rear. It was light unto 
them, it was darkness to their enemies ; " and they came not 
near each other all the night." Those who had obeyed the 
command, " forward ! " stood on the other side, and then the 
Lord God looked out from the pillar of fire, and troubled the 
Egyptians, and brake their chariot wheels. Those who had 
obeyed the command, "forward!" saw the wrecks of the 
chariots, and the carcasses of the horses, and the bodies of men 
strewing the strand. Let us settle the question, "Am I 
right ? " And then, shoulder to shoulder, march on, our motto, 
" Excelsior " ; our hope, that there is a better day coming ; and 
our prayer, " God speed the right." —John B. Gough. 



106. THE PATRIOT'S ALIiY.* 

Our fathers believed a government of the people possible, 
and thus the Republic was born, with all its great destinies an- 
chored to the masses, with all its possibilities dependent upon 
the capacity of the individual citizens for self-government, and 
that capacity again dependent upon the enlightenment of the 
conscience and the understanding. Our fathers were far-see- 
ing men. They did not leave this enlightenment of the con- 
science and understanding to the haphazard teaching of the 
street, of society, or even of the home or the church. Their 
underlying philosophy was the now accepted axiom, that 
" whatever we should have appear in the character of citizen- 
ship must be wrought into that character through the schools." 
As those times were simple, so were their schools. 

But the curriculum of our schools has kept pace with the 
demand of our citizenship. When the war of 1861 burst upon 
us, it found a nation of civilians on both sides of the Potomac. 
That struggle was greatly prolonged, while " the boys in blue 
and in gray " were being transformed into soldiers. Taught by 



♦Extract from Address of Mrs. Mary H. Hunt, before the Comraittee on Edu- 
cation and Labor, United States Senate, in favor of the bill " Providing for the 
study of Physiology and Hygiene, and the effects of intoxicating, narcotic, and 
poisonous substances upon the life, health, and welfare, by the pupils in the 
public schools of the Territories and of the District of Columbia, and in the Mili- 
tary and Naval Academies." 



138 Platform Pearls. 



that experience, many a State said, *' This must never happen 
again,-' and added military drill for many schools. 

But a greater evil is in all our land, to-day, than the one that 
temporarily estranged us in ante-bellum days. Uncle 
Tom could say, ' ' This body is Massa Legree's slave, 
but this soul is God's free man." No slave of aldohol 
can say that. Enslaved soul and body are its victims, 
who are not an alien race, thus subjugated, but are our 
own sons and brothers, husbands and fathers, the best-be- 
loved from the homes of an otherwise happy and prosperous 
people. A " first-born has been slain " by tliis destroyer, in aU 
this fair land, between the oceans, the lakes, and the gulf. 
Never has any evil so undermined the character of our citizen- 
ship, and therefore proved so great an evil to our free institu- 
tions. Alarmed at the inroads of this enemy, the friends of 
this reform are knocking at the doors of the schools for relief. 
We come to ask for an enactment that shall result in the en- 
lightenment of the consciences and understanding of the peo- 
ple, not as to the vice and evil of drunkenness, of which all are 
now assured, but as to the nature of alcohol, and of its effects 
upon the human system, that, thus forewarned, our youth may 
be forearmed. 

I am here, gentlemen, not merely as a person, but in a repre- 
sentative capacity. There are two hundred thousand Christian 
women who are praying this morning for the results of this 
hour. They are in every city, in every town, all over this 
broad land, in every State and every Territory. They repre- 
sent the homes, the Christian homes of America. If we save 
the children to-day, we shall have saved the nation to-morrow. 
In the name, then, of this womanhood, I stand here, to plead 
for the children who will be taught in the, specified territory 
covered by this bill, and likewise for the influence of such legis- 
lation. Wherever our flag shall be unfurled over this and 
other lands throughout all Christendom, will be felt the blessed 
example, if this Congress of the United States shall thus pro- 
vide for the temperance education of the children under its 
jurisdiction. 

107. THE TEMPERANCE EDUCATION liAW.* 

The old maxim says that " right wrongs no man." So I say 
that light wrongs no man. Truth wrongs no man. It controls 

* From a speech in the House of Kepresentatives, May 17, 1886. 



Platform Pearls. 



no man, but it helps each man to control himself. There is and 
there can be no question of the terrible evil of intemperance. 
All thinking men are agreed that it is the greatest social evil 
of the age. It is an evil that most vitally concerns the State in 
many ways. 

It degrades the individual citizen and unfits him for the 
duties and responsibilities of citizenship. 

It is the most prolific cause of law^lessness, pauperism, and 
crime. 

It is the great destroyer of national w^ealth. 

It is the most common and the most dangerous agent for 
the corruption of the elective franchise. 

There is no side of free government that it does not assail. 
It poisons the fountains of political power ; it multiplies the 
burdens of taxation ; it diminishes the wage-fund of labor be- 
low the line of decent living ; it dwarfs the power of produc- 
tion to an alarming extent ; it corrupts the franchise, and it 
threatens the future of the Republic by perverting and depra- 
ving the rising generation. 

The great central root of intemperance is ignorance. The 
remedy must be more light. 

This bill is the echo of God's primordial decree, " Let there 
be light ! " It is the pleading of the millions of the children of 
our land, beseeching that they may not be sent naked, without 
shield or armor, into the battle of life to contend against odds 
not only with the open and disclosed enemy but also with those 
that lie in ambush and assail them in disguise. It is the appeal 
of hundreds of thousands of the noblest and purest women of 
the land in behalf of their homes, their offspring, their altars, 
and their firesides. It is the plea of the home, the church, and 
the school combined that if our tender ones and our helpless 
ones must run the gauntlet of the army of alcohol they may at 
least be forewarned and upon guard against the lurking 
danger. 

In form this bill affects and applies only to the District of 
Columbia and the places under the exclusive jurisdiction of 
the United States ; but in principle and in moral effect it is as 
broad as the nation. 

Its passage will send a thrill of joy and a tide of blessing 
from ocean to ocean, from the great lakes to the Gulf, and from 
the Everglades of Florida to the waters of Puget Sound. It is 



140 Platform Pearls. 



a remedy peaceable, philosophical, radical, far-reaching. It 
trenches on no man's rights, proscribes no man's business, con- 
fiscates no man's property, dictates no man's habits, restricts 
no man's hberty. It appeals only to the power of truth upon 
man's free choice. It will be as silent and as beneficent in its 
operation as the dew and the sunshine of spring. It wiU come 
with bane for none, with blessing for all. We, who to-day re- 
cord our votes for this bill, may not Uve to see its matured 
fruits. The world will move on much the same as before, but 
it will move upon a constantly ascending plane until it shall 
come at length, perhaps long after we are gone, into a clearer 
light, into a brighter hope, into a nobler, cleaner, and more 
beneficent mode of living. 

We have it in our power here and now to confer untold 
blessings upon the future of our country, for which millions 
now unborn shaU rise up and call us blessed. Can we neglect 
so grand an opportunity, so imperative a duty ? 

— Hon. Byron M. Cutcheon. 



108. THE liOYAIi TEMPEIItANCE liEGION. 

We're a temperance legion 

Singing as we come. 
Soldiers of an army 
Pledged to conquer rum. 

We're for home and mother, 

God and native land ; 
Grown up friend and brother, 
Give us now your hand. 

We're a gentle legion, 
In our sunny youth, 
Bearing as our weapons 
Only love and truth. 

We're for home and mother, 

God and native land ; 
Grown up friend and brother, 
Give us now your hand. 

We're an earnest legion, 

For we surely know 
What destroys the father 

Is the children's foe. 



Platform Pearls. 141 



We're for home and mother, 

God and native land ; 
Older friend and brother, 

Give us now your hand. 

We're an honest legion, 
Wearing colors true, 
Like our country's emblem, 
Red and white and blue. 

We're for home and mother, 

God and native land ; 
Patriot friend and brother, 
Give us loyal hand. 

We're a growing legion, 
By and by we'll stand 
Citizens and rulers, 
Ballots in our hands ; 

Then to home and country 

We will still be true, 
Vote for Prohibition, 
Grown up friends, will you ? 

— Mary T. Latlirap. 



109. THE TERRORS OF EVICTION. 

Have you ever thought about a woman being turned out of 
her house — the little cottage that covers her and her children ? 
Can you picture — you who live in comfortable homes filled 
with light and warmth and books and joy — can you think of 
these people — human beings, our brothers and sisters, the poor 
mother, brave though her heart is breaking, huddling her little 
children about her, and the father, weak but loving, and 
loving all the deeper because he knows his weakness has 
brought them to this want and degradation, and little 
children, those of whom our Saviour said : "Suffer them to 
come unto me and forbid them not," there asking, "Mamma, 
where will we sleep to-night ? " — can you picture that and then 
their taking themselves up and the woman putting her hand 
with undying love and faith in the hand of the man she swore 
to follow through good and evil report, and marching up and 
down the street — this pitiable procession — through the un- 
thinking streets, by laughing children and shining windows, 



142 Platform Pearls. 



looking for a hole where, like the foxes, they may hide their 
poor heads ? 

My friends, they talk to you about personal liberty, that a 
man should have the right to go into a grog-shop and see this 
pitiable procession — now stopped — parading up and down our 
streets again. They talk to you about the shades of Washing- 
ton, Monroe, and Jefferson I would not give one happy, rosy 
little woman, uphfted from that degradation — happy again in 
her home, with the cricket chirping on her hearthstone and 
her children about her knee, her husband redeemed from drink 
at her side — I would not give one of them for all the shades 
of all the men that ever contended since Cataline conspired and 
Caesar fought ! — Henry W, Grady. 

110. A NE\*^ SOA'G OF SIXPENCE. 

Sing a song of ways and means, 

Nice good-natured man, 
With an empty pocketbook, 

Hits upon a plan. 
Gets a paper and a pen, 

Writes an application ; 
Gets it signed by twelve nice men 

Of decent gi-ade and station ! 
When the paper's opened, 

'Tis clearly understood. 
The whole thing is " conducive 

To the public good." 

Fellow buys his license, 

Pays his money down ; 
Isn't that an easy way 

Of lighting up a town ? 
Make the sidewalks wider. 

Make 'em wide and straight ; 
Sometimes men come reeling 

Homeward rather late — 
Once were babies cuddled tight. 

As though the love would smother ; 
Isn't this a pleasant sight 

To set before a mother? 

Sing a song of broken hearts. 
Hearts that break for sorrow ; 



Platform Pearls. 143 



Eyes that look through blinding tears 

For a better morrow. 
When the polls are opened, 

The votes and drink go down ; 
Isn't this a precious sight 

To set before a town ? 

Sing a song of ships afloat, 

Starry pennants wearing ; 
For a distant heathen port 

See them seaward bearing. 
Tracts and whisky casks aboard, 

Runi and salvation ; 
'Tis a most consistent dish 

Before a Christian nation. 

Sing a song of woman's work, 

Women's faith and prayers ; 
Four and twenty duties, 

Four and twenty cares. 
Girls with sunny faces. 

Women with white hair ; 
Unions in the East and West, 

Unions everywhere, 

Working for a Christian cause. 

Men that cause delaying, 
Women with their ribbons white. 

Hoping, trusting, praying. 
When the Book is opened, 

Where creed and act accord. 
Won't this be a pleasant sight 

To set before the Lord ? 

— Mrs. N. 8. Kitchel 



111. THE POWER OF RIGHTEOUS LAW. 

I am aware that legal penalties can not kill appetite, or 
quench inward dispositions. But if this is an objection to a penal 
statute in one instance, it is an objection in all instances. The 
law against murder can not prevent the murderous disposition 
— the penalty for stealing, does not make one any less a thief 
at heart. Law is not a moral and regenerating force ; it is 
restriction, and has reference to overt acts. And in this capac- 



144 Platform Pearl!^. 



ity it is legitimate and efficacious anywhere ; it is so when it 
confiscates the implements of the gamester, or stops the traffic 
of the dealer in intoxicating drinks. It becomes every citizen 
to exert all his influence in erecting legal safeguards against 
those monstrous vices. It is a shameful inconsistency that the 
law should busy itself only with consequences, and neglect and 
even foster causes. It leaves uncared for the hotbeds of iniq- 
uity, and shuts up the vagrant and the thief. With one hand 
it licenses a dram-shop, and with the other builds a gallows. 
Hearer, where are your influence and your vote in this mat- 
ter 9 — Rev. Dr. E. H. Chapin. 



112. THE GREAT PROBLEM. 

It was my great pleasure a few years ago to listen to an 
address by Bishop Thoburn from Calcutta, India, to the gradu- 
ating class at Painesville, Ohio. In it he said : 

"Life is full of problems, and education helps us to solve 
them. The scholar is accustomed to sit down to his example. 
The more difficult it is, the more time and thought he must 
consume in working it out. Does he give it up because it is 
difficult ? Never ! if he is the real scholar. Does he go to his 
class and say to the teacher, ' The easiest problems I have 
solved, but the more difficult and intricate I have left until my 
mind is prepared to grasp them, and I feel more like studying 
them out. I find my classmates also disposed to let them 
alone, so we have all concluded to do only what we are able 
easily and naturally to do.' " 

Shall we be such scholars in the great school of Hf e ? One 
of the most intricate problems set before us is tliis of the tem- 
perance question. Shall we leave it alone, or shall we, in our 
quiet homes, study out the problem, and never rest until it is 
successfully solved ? 

You say it is intricate. Yes, there is the addition of woes, 
terrible beyond description. There is the subtraction of happi- 
ness beyond computation. There is the multiphcation of sor- 
rows and distresses, and there is the division of estates, of 
homes, of lives. There are questions of profit and loss — profit 
to the saloon-keeper, to be balanced by loss to the nation, the 
state, the church, the community, and the home. 

There are questions of proportion ; if a saloon-keeper pays 
$200, how many homes worth $3,000, $20,000, or $200,000 may 



Platform Pearls. 145 



be ruined ? How many manly forms may he bring to drunk- 
ards' gi-aves? How many mothers' hearts may he break? 
How many children may he keep barefoot and starving through 
the cold winter ? 

Ah, Christian women, is the problem beyond our solving? 
Shall we not join hands and hearts and brains to study out this 
stupendous question in its various relations ? 

Let, us call to our aid clear minds that have given their best 
thought for years to its solution. Let us choose their words 
rather than our own in presenting these thoughts to others. 

Let us sit low at the feet of these teachers and prove dili- 
gent and ready scholars. 

Let us ask the blessing of the Divine Teacher on our every 
effort, and seek His presence and benediction first of all. 

— Mrs. Nettie B. Fernald, 



113. A PRAYER BY DR. DEEMS. 

Look upon us, O God, our heavenly Father, in our helpless- 
ness before this great tyranny. Look upon us as they slaughter 
our children and our fathers, and look with pity upon the 
mothers and the fathers of the dead brave whom they have 
killed. Bring from out of the schools and colleges, the fac- 
tories and the farms, those who are gifted to fight ; and may 
all enter into this work with all their heart, brain, brawn, and 
life. Let not the sun of this generation go down in darkness. 
May the terrific rum traffic be crushed out. Let the powers of 
moral suasion, of preaching, of law, and of social influence be 
combined to beat down this Satan. Grant that this whole na- 
tion may be stirred increasingly over this greatest question that 
has stirred it since the continent was discovered. Break, we 
pray Thee, the power of every preacher, every editor, every 
poet, every reporter, every writer, who is engaged in giving 
countenance to the desolating curse of the centuries. And give 
strength to every feeble child, and to every weak woman, and 
every humble soldier fighting for Prohibition ; and may the 
strongest amongst us be like David, and the Davids in this 
cause be powerful as angels of heaven. 

— Rev. Dr. Charles F. Deems, in Cooper Union, June 7, 
1887. 

10 



146 Platform Pearls. 



114. "THE MASTER CAIiliETH." 

The golden test of character is m Colossians 3:17, "What- 
soever ye do in word or deed, do all in the name of the Lord 
Jesus." That is life's topmost round, its loftiest ideal, one that 
would carry with it happiness for others and for ourselves, and 
would bring out all the power there is in any one of us. If this 
is your ideal the forces of the universe are on your side ; there 
is a momentum from the great Parental Spirit of the world. 
No harm can come to you on any planet if the supreme law 
that gives unity to your Mf e is this one Master. It is a very 
practical thing to carry out this law, and if we are sincere it 
wiU make Christ master of our money, master of our time, 
master of our tongues, master of our influence ; and if it does 
not, then what we claim concerning consecration is sounding 
brass and a tinkling cymbal, nothing more. 

The Master calleth : He calls by joy, and I have thought 
when that sufl&ces He does not call by grief. The sunshine, 
not the storm, is the preferred method of approach by Him 
who weareth light as a garment. 

In my temperance work I often ask white-ribboners what 
enlisted them to fight this battle, and in nine cases out of ten I 
find it was the call of joy. Even as a lovely Southern woman 
said to me in a city of Virginia where I was forming a society, 
as she stepped foi-ward to give me her name : " Just because 
my home has been so bright, because my husband and my sons 
never wish to spend an evening out, and have no habit that a 
woman might not cherish, I am glad to give my name and 
pledge my work. It is a token of my gratitude." 

But if we will not be won by the sweet South wind, then 
comes the tempest, and He who loves us too well to give up 
©ailing, sends the call of grief. How many of us have sorrow- 
fully proved that this is true ! What scars upon the heart, 
known perhaps only to God, testify to the scourging of Him 
who doth not wilhngly afflict or grieve the children of men ! 

Jenny Lind was asked what she thought about when she 
was singing, and with a rapt gaze she answered, " Oh, I al- 
ways sing to God ! " The words were eloquent ; they tell what 
every Uf e should do — it should sing its noble psalm to God 
who gave it. 

He calls by opportunity. The Foreign Missionary work — 
that blessed John the Baptist that prepares the way for women. 



Platform Pearls. 147 



and opens highways to the great causes of home philanthropy 
—the Woman's Home Missionary work, the Woman's Christian 
Temperance Union, with its beckoning hand and its stirring 
voice, " For God and Home and Native Land," the Christian 
Endeavor Societies, working so bravely "For Christ and the 
Church," the King's Daughters, with their glorious motto, " In 
His name " — He calls by opportunities like these, in a more 
winsome voice than Christian women ever heard before. Can 
any refuse to heed the call? — Frances E. Willard. 



115. A WORD TO THE Y's. 

A word to the Y's, and what word shall it be as sufficient? 
The answer arises in my own heart ; the name of our or- 
ganization covers the case entirely — " Young Woman's Chris- 
tian Temperance Union " — the very first word of which sug- 
gests helpfulness, the second tactfulness, kindness, sympathy; 
the third, completeness; the fourth, the immediate necessity 
for the practical application of these attributes, and the fifth, 
the continued need of united labor. The air is full of the 
sound of organized effort, and titles and constitutions portray 
the objects for which the societies are formed, but none can 
mean more, or better meet the present social, moral, religious, 
educational, and, we might add, municipal, requirements of 
every town and hamlet, than the organization bearing the 
above name. Some will question, "Does it take the place 
of the Church ? " No ; but it comes forth from the Church and 
is an extension of church work, under a name, which, by its 
very sound, protests against the greatest enemy of the Church. 
The Crusade Spirit, a baptism which fell upon the women in 
1873, largely eliminated the " fear of man" from the hearts of 
those who had been "called," and Christian courage and forti- 
tude have long characterized the membership. Every God- 
inspired reform receives consideration and is practically set in 
motion by this organization ; it not only passes resolutions on 
questions the most trying and difficult out on the frontier of 
moral warfare, but dares to stand by them ; it plants its white 
banner, and then, clad in the "whole armor," "as good- 
natured as sunshine and as persistent as a Christian's faith," 
fights up to its colors. The name, "King's Daughters," is most 
beautiful and uplifting. The name, "Christian Endeavor," 
suggests aggressive Christianity. The name, " Young Woman's 



148 Platform Pearls. 



Christian Temperance Union," means all this and more : it 
means striking at the root of the greatest evil of our times ; it 
means personal self-denial ; it means espousing an unpopular 
cause, and working for it ; it means to be willing to march in 
the grand army of the W. C. T. U., which is fighting with 
peaceable weapons for the total prohibtion of the liquor ti'affic ; 
for equal and an educated suffrage ; for a living wage 
and proper working hours for men and women ; for social 
purity ; for the cause of peace and arbitration ; for the 
maintenance of scientific temperance instruction in public 
schools. It stands for the protection of boyhood and girl- 
hood in all stations of life, and if there is any other 
human need, however direful or unattractive, .as a direct 
or indirect result of intemperance and sin, for it the 
Woman's Christian Temperance Union dares to raise its voice. 
Dear young women because there is " a shadow on the home 
and many hearts are sad to-day," we ask you to read over the 
forty departments of the National W. C. T. U., then look 
around you, and before God ask your conscience if there is not 
a need-be for each one, and question your hearts. "Have I 
come to the Kingdom for such a time as this ; for such righte- 
ous demands as these ? " and may you count it a privilege with- 
out delay to join our ranks, and to say : " Let my life be given 
me at my petition and my people at my regard." ' ' Here am I, 
Lord: send me." — Frances J. Barnes. 



116. WHAT WIL.I. THE FARMER DO? 

The assumption that the American farmer has reached the 
limit of his market for all the grain he raises not used in the 
drunkard-making industry is contradicted wherever there can 
be found a hungiy, half -fed man, woman, or child. The limit 
has not been reached — and it is a crime to assert it — when 
there exists a half -starved human being within the range of 
the white sails and the smoking engines of American commerce. 
What is the farmer to do with his surplus grain ? We com- 
mend to The Gazette the world of meaning in the answer of 
the Kansas farmer to a similar question propounded by an 
anti-Prohibition orator: '^We will raise more hogs and less 
hell!'' 

Most emphatically. Prohibitionists do not propose to destroy 



Platform Peahls. 149 



the farming industry. On the contrary, they would give it a 
greater impetus. What tariff, high or low, would begin to 
benefit the American farmer like the existence about him of a 
community free from saloons and drunkards, with every mem- 
ber eating his three full meals a day, possessing his two or more 
good suits of clothes and sleeping under his sheets and blankets 
made from the products of the farm? Drink burdens the farm- 
er tiy increasing his taxes. Drink narrows his markets just 
in proportion to the poverty and number of the drinkers. Ban- 
ish saloons and saloon legislators and you open to the farmer 
the flood-gates of prosperity. — TTie Voice. 



117. THE WHITE RIBBON ARMY. 

Encircle the world with a ribbon ! 

A beautiful ribbon of white, 
The badge of the temperance women. 

The emblem of freedom and right ; 
Of freedom from bitterest bondage, 

The terrible bondage of drink. 
That binds down the glory of manhood, 

And fastens a heart in each link. 

Hear the pitiful wail of the children ! 

And list to the mother's low moan. 
"Wives w^eep in the anguish of sorrow ; 

Oh, what for such woes can atone ? 
Love, truth, and home life are shattered. 

And hope now lies crushed at the feet 
Of the demon who tramples upon them — 

Every tie that made living so sweet. 

Shall no standard be lifted against him, 

This foe that spreads ruin and shame, 
And sullies our star-spangled banner 

By plying his trade in its name ? 
O yes ! for while temperance w omen 

Have power to speak for the right, 
We'll encircle the world with our ribbon. 

Our beautiful ribbon of white. 

— Marian W. Huhbard, 



150 Platform Pearls. 



118. THE VOICE OF SCIENCE. 

I am recording a matter of history — of personal history — 
on this question when I say that I, for one, had no thought of 
alcohol except as a food. I thought it warmed us. I thought 
it gave additional strength. I thought it enabled us to endure 
mental and bodily fatigue. I thought it cheered the heart, and 
lifted up the mind into greater activity. But it so happened 
that I was asked by the British Medical Association to study 
the action of alcohol along with a whole series of chemical 
bodies, and to investigate their bearing in relation to each 
other. And so I took alcohol from the shelf of my laboratory, 
as I might any other drug or chemical there, and I asked it, in 
the course of experiments extending over a long period, 
''What do you do?" I asked it, "Do you warm the animal 
body when you are taken into it ? " The reply came invariably, 
*' I do not, except as a mere flush of surface excitement. There 
is, in fact, no warming, but, on the contrary, an effect of cool- 
ing and chilling the body." Then I turned round to it in 
another direction, and asked it, " Do you give muscular 
strength ? " I test it by the most rigid analysis and experiment 
I can adopt. I test muscular power under the influence of it 
in various forms and degrees, and its reply is, "I give no mus- 
cular strength." I turn to its effect upon the organs of the 
body, and find that while it expedites the heart's action it 
reduces tonicity ; and turning to the nervous system I find the 
same reply — that is to say, I find the nervous system 
more quickly worn out under the influence of this agent than 
if none of it is taken at all. I ask it, ' ' Can you build up any 
of the tissues of the body? " The answer again is in the nega- 
tive — * ' I can build nothing. If I do anytliing I add fatty mat- 
ter to the body ; but that is a destructive agent, piercing the 
tissues, destroying their powers, and making them less active 
in their work." Finally, I sum it all up. I find it to be an 
agent that gives no sti'ength, that reduces the tone of the blood- 
vessels and heart, that reduces the nervous power, that builds 
up no tissues, can be of no use to me or any other animal as a 
substance for food. On that side of the question my mind is 
made up — that this agent, in the most moderate quantity, is 
perfectly useless for any of the conditions of life to which men 



Platform Pearls. 151 



are subjected, except under the most exceptional conditions, 
which none but skilled observers need declare. 

— Benjamin Ward Richardson, M.D.* 



119. " COMPUI4SORY MOKAIilTY." 

All men will not do right ; that is, a great many will not — 
they are wrong-headed, black-hearted, an go in for secm*ing to 
themselves the largest possible share of sensual gratification at 
the smallest cost of labor or exertion. Which then is to be pre- 
ferred — that these men should continue to do wrong with 
impunity and seeming advantage at the cost of the general 
weal ; or that the law should interpose to bar the path in which 
they choose to tread ? Yet to do this latter is just what is stig- 
matized as " compulsory morahty." We don't see how penal 
laws can enforce any other than " compulsory " morality, nor 
what they are required for if not for just this. 

— Horace Greeley. 

120. THE POIilTICIAN'S ITAIIi. 

Oh, I wish I could ride two horses 

Both going different ways ; 
I wish I could act on two stages 

Both running different plays I 
I wish I could talk free silver 

To the wild and woolly West, 
While I shriek in the East for the yellow dust 

That the Eastern man loves best ! 

I love to " smile " with the rummy 

Or walk with the dry Prohib., 
Or fix to please the Populist 

A neat little two per cent. fib. 
I wish I could please all parties, 

I wish I could tickle all men, 
So the points of the compass would all combine 

To run me for office again ! 

But they jam me into a corner 

And say I must do or die. 
Must show my mettle, define my views, 

And let my banners fly ! 



* Ex-President of the Medical Society of London, Fellow of the Royal Society, 
Fellow of the Royal College of Physicians, etc. 



152 Platform Pearls. 



Oh, Where's my occupation 

If this country means to rise 
And tear from our records and language books 

That good word, " temporize ? " 

I envy the little tree-toad 

"Whose tough, elastic hide 
Takes the hue of the stone or twiglet 

Where he doth, pro tem, abide. 
Unblamed — oh, wasteful nature. 

Confer that gift on me, 
For I am a patriot leader 

Who loves his salaree ! — Edna C. Jackson. 



121. THE TEMPERANCE ARMY. 

Recitation for Eight Boys. 

FIRST BOY. 

We've joined the Temperance Army, and the drink we mean 

to fight ; 
We've all enlisted early on the side of truth and right. 
We're healthy, strong, and sturdy, and as time goes fleeting 

by, 

If God doth spare our hves, we'll grow in stature tall and 

high; 
And we'll go on as we've begun, and fight for freedom still. 
We'll be loyal temperance soldiers — yes, that we will ! 

SECOND BOY. 

Brave and obedient we must be, and prompt at Duty's word. 
No fear must dwell within the hearts by love and pity stirred ; 
As soldiers here you find us, ready, every one, to fight 
Until our foe, the tyrant Drink, is put to shameful fiight ; 
As soldiers we salute you — and we wish that every one 
Would join our Temperance Army, till our glorious work is 
done ! 

THIRD BOY. 

We aU beheve in order, and we're proud of this our band — 
We're trim and neat and steady, as we struggle heart and 

hand ! 
For shoulder unto shoulder, side by side, we boys remain. 
We wheel to right, we wheel to left, and now we halt again ! 



Platfobm Pearls. 153 



We shoulder arms and arms present ; and striving hard are 

we 
To make the Temperance Army just as strong as strong can 

be! 

FOURTH BOY. 

Of com-se we have some music just to cheer us on our way, 
So here we lift our bugles ! Would you like to hear us play? 
Or watch us as we sound the fifes, the cornet, and the drum ? 
With notes of triumph, and of peace, the Temperance soldiers 

come. 
Roll, roll your drums, my comrades, till a mighty host we 

win — 
And send the bugle-call to young and old, and bring them in ! 

FIFTH BOY. 

Lift up the Temperance banner, let its folds shine out on high ; 
O children, lift it upward — upward to the smiling sky ! 
Hurrah for these our colors ! all the world shall see them glow — 
We'll wave our flag, our Temperance flag, in the face of Drink, 

our foe ; 
We'll plant our standard everywhere, and spread our fearless 

band 
Till sober homes and happy hearts are known throughout the 

land! 

SIXTH BOY. 

With dauntless spirits, hero-like, forever may we go. 
We're not afraid in freedom's cause to strike a steady blow ; 
We're not afraid of mocking, for we cry with a steadfast will : 
' ' We will not touch nor taste the drink that worketh harm and 

ill ! " 
At every point we'll fight it, and we'll never, never yield : 
We'll charge it all together, and we'll drive it from the field ! 

SEVENTH BOY. 

This day we come recruiting for the army of the true ! 
Whate'er your name, whate'er your place, our ranks have 

need of you ; 
Please sign our pledge-book, join our band, come forward to 

our aid — 
Now, now become a soldier in the Abstinence Brigade ; 



154 Platfoem Peabls. 



Our hands to you we'll all hold out, our welcome high shall 

sound ; 
Come, join our growing army that will help the weak around ! 

EIGHTH BOY. 

Our strength is in uniting ; if we muster one and all, 

The powers of Drink that wrong our earth shall yet enfeebled 

faU; 
The drunkard's chain shall be no more, the captive shall be 

free, 
And vice and want and trembling fear before our ranks shall 

flee. 
Come, gather, gather, one and all, until the strife be done ; 
By work and prayer we'll conquer yet and march victorious 

on! 



Come, Temperance soldiers, muster in life's morning glad and 

bright, 
We'll gather, gather, side by side, and march to win the 
fight ! 
{They leave the platform in marching order, one by one.) 
— Mrs. Haycraft. 

122. THE SAILOR LAD. 

It was a sailor, brown and young. 

Whose ship had just sailed by ; 
Its fair white sails were proudly swelled, 
Its great, dark hull was lightly held, 
And, with the rippling waves did weld. 
As swept its prow around a curve, 
Without a single wavering swerve ; 
And anchored safe did lie. 

For many days the good ship had 

Battled with wind and main ; 
Storms had assailed, great winds did blow, 
Calms had entangled in their slow 
And weary currents, ice and snow 
Tried to enshroud her in their bands ; 
Pirates attacked her in far lands ; 
Yet here she was again. 

Her captain was a stem, good man, 
Eight worthy of his place ; 



Platform Pearls. 155 



His men were all brave, tried, and true, 
Who loved their ship and ocean blue, 
And Mttle else of life they knew 
But that which centered round the life 
On ship, and mother, home, or wife, 
Or of the little face 

That watched for him while far he sailed 

Along the boundless main ; 
Who counted hours, and weeks, and days, 
And numbered all his httle plays. 
And all his small life's sunshine rays. 
By "When my father's ship comes back 
There's nothing pretty I shall lack — 
When he comes home again." 

But now the proud ship was at home. 

At liberty the men, 
Who, through the heat and through the cold, 
Through dangers that were never told, 
Had borne then* trials, brave and bold. 
And faced grim death and gaunt despair. 
And now seemed walking in the air : 
' ' They were at home again ! " 

And all the men who'd wives and babes. 

Hastened blithe away. 
And left this young brown sailor lad. 
And who no wife nor infant had. 
But whose old mother, blind and sad, 
Waited at home in her old chair. 
Waited with many a fervent prayer. 
For his return that day. 

On shore he stood, so brown, so strong, 

A pleasant sight was he ; 
No brighter eyes were ever seen. 
No face of nobler, sweeter mien, 
No better boy was there, I ween ; 
No heart was truer or more grand. 
In any mansion in the land. 
Than this lad from the sea. 



156 Platform Pearls. 



He was a boy, no more than that, 
"What wonder that he fell ; 
.When every street and rumshop door, 
And every Uttle bedecked store, 
Persuasive sights, showed o'er and o'er. 
And begged Mm to go in — 
To drink, and steep himself in sin ! 
They were the mouths of hell. 

And he was robbed ; the little store 

That he had slowly won. 
That for his mother he had brought, 
That meant so much of love and thought. 
Of comfort in her blindness sought — 
All now was gone ; he saw the theft, 
And, like a beast of whelps bereft, 
He struck ! The deed was done ! 

Then, trembling in a vague alarm, 

He looked upon his hands ; 
While round his feet a circling flood 
Crept slowly, as he dumbly stood ; 
And this dark circle — it was blood ! 
Dark and sinister it lay. 
Circling about him every way. 
And forming linked bands. 

The sight of that dark, awful stain. 
Was worse than of the dead. 
Who lay there prone, with pallid face. 
And form that matched the baneful place, 
And from his breast that bubbling race. 
Of pouring blood that circled round. 
And wrought new figures on the ground, 
And filled him with sore di-ead. 

A little while he trembling stood. 
As a baby tottering stands. 
Bewildered by the horrid sight. 
And then before him all grew night, 
His gleaming knife the only light ; 
But when his senses came again, 



Platform Pearls. 157 



And he could see a little plain, 

His hands were clasped in iron bands. 

***** 

A mother, pale, and bent, and blind, 

Knelt in a prison cell, 
And kissed those brown and sturdy hands, 
That now were clasped in iron bands, 
That toiled so brave in many lands ; 
That never had an action done 
That was not right, except this one, 
In that red gate of hell ! 

The poor old, shrunken, sightless eyes 

Had not a tear to shed ; 
Dry, labored sobs shook her old frame. 
And through them burned the awful shame 
That now had fallen on her name ; 
Yet, in all her soitow, none 
Heard her blame that prisoned son, 
Who sat with bended head. 

Too well she knew the pitfalls that 

The law allows to lie 
Unchecked, unheeded, everywhere, 
That catch unwary footsteps there, 
Like some wild tiger in its lair ; 
That lay their toils to trap within 
The very ones least prone to sin. 

And gloating, see them die. 

She had no hope ; red-handed he 

Was taken in the act ; 
Tho he was drunk, that could not save. 
And, tho he killed a thievish knave, 
He now must fill a felon's grave ; 
No hope was there for this poor lad, 
Who, tho he sinned, was not all bad ; 
The law must go by fact. 

'Twas done ! 'twas done ! that bonny lad 

Whose ship had just sailed in — 
That handsome youth, his mother's pride, 
Who, for one moment self -beside. 



158 Platfoem Pearls. 



Had sinned when drunk, had shamed died ; 

While those who were the guilty ones, 

Whose hearts are hard as nether stones, 

Cried, "We have punished sin." 
* * * * * * ♦ 

And now a low and unmarked grave. 
Another close beside, 

Shows where low lies the sailor lad. 

The only one his mother had. 

The boy whose heart was weak, not bad, 

Who had a dread and awful end, 

With none but one poor, weak, blind friend ; 

While sin still lives in pride. 
****** 

l'envoi. 
Oh ! friends, maybe to-morrow you 

A sailor boy may have. 
Whose ship is saihng home again. 
Whose heart is beating love's refrain, 
Whose young hfe you would spare from pain ; 
Then join, with prayerful hearts and true. 
And vote our Prohibition through. 
And thus your own boy save ! 

— Olive Harper. 



123. FOR GOD AND HOME. 

Behind were rent hearts steeped in tears ; 

Around, the day grown black with wo ; 
Before them lay the curse of years 

Feeding on all they loved below. 
And what were they ? A feeble band 

Of women weak, their loved ones gone ! 
They breathed a prayer, they heard a voice : 
' ' Strike for thy loved ! Press on. press on ! 

For Grod they raised their standard high ; 

For home they pressed against the foe : 
The curse sent out its horrid cry. 

And raised its head as for a blow. 
What could these fragile women then ? 

The hope from them was well-nigh torn ; 



Platform Pearls. 159 



They knelt and prayed ; again the voice : 
" Press on, press on, press on, and on ! " 

The world aloof — now here, now there, 
One joined with them for Native Land ; 

The curse was troubled in its lair, 
And roused to swallow up this band ; 

Like bold Goliath on Elah's plain 
It boasted loud at eve, at morn. 

The women prayed : *' Be Thou our strength ! " 

" I still am God ! Press on, and on ! " 

Their numbers grew ; brave leaders came, 
Sent by their Lord whose flag they bore. 

The world is now their battle-field. 
Their courage ever more and more. 

Adown the ranks, from file to file, 
Goes up the prayer, goes out the song — 

God their commander, and His word : 

*' Fight on, fight on, and right this wrong ! " 

— E. H. Chace. 



124. A TOTl^ER OF SHAOTE. 

Many of the designs and ingenious devices intended to out- 
strip the Eiffel Tower of Paris in our quadri-centennial celebra- 
tion are stupendous and wonderful, yet lack the one idea to 
which such an object should tend ; namely, an exhibit to future 
generations of what has been accomplished since the formation 
of the Union. In doing this, I would suggest that a gigantic 
structure ought to be raised to show the principal business in 
which the country is engaged, and which, proving so lucrative, 
is commanding the admiration and capital of the Old World — 
a business in which we profess to lead the world, samples of 
which can be found in every cUme where our flag is known, 
which has left its impress on both the civilized and imcivilized, 
and is to-day the ruling spirit of the land, controlling our poli- 
tics, the schools and institutions, and, to a great extent, the 
homes of our vaunted " free America." This is the business 
which must be handed down to posterity, for which we have 
sacrificed so much, and of which we feel justly proud. The 
results of it have blest (?) every home in America so much that 
thousands of orphaned children and widowed motliers would 



160 Platform Pearls. 



subscribe their prayers and tears, and tlie CJiurch in many 
cases, its blessing. 

Then, to the honor of oui' country, let us erect on Capitol 
Hill, Washington, a monument to Bacchus, Beer, and Bourbon, 
that will reflect on her votaries and show to the world that we 
are advancing with rapid strides towards liberty to eat and 
drink what we please. 

We would suggest that the structure be shaped like a demi- 
john, with an emblematic base, one side being built upon bar- 
rels, each representing the year and the amount spent from 
1776 to 1891. The opposite side should represent the amount of 
crime, the crushed homes and souls ruined since its license by 
the Government, the wicker-work on the outside to be fac- 
similies of our silver- dollar bearing on its face "In God We 
Trust." The structure should be 1,100 feet high, each story ten 
feet high, representing the eleven decades through which we 
have passed ; each story to have recorded on its walls the mur- 
ders committed, victims executed, and homes ruined, and sons 
and daughters sacrificed during each decade. The two 
handles on its sides might represent the two great i)olitical 
parties who carry this mighty business on to success. At the 
apex we would place the Cork of Justice, bhndfolded and ap- 
pealing to Heaven for deliverance for a country of magnificent, 
God-given hopes, that has piled up such a collossal structure of 
misery and crime in a little over a century of existence. 
Here we would have a structure of which we might be justly 
proud, and could challenge the nations of the earth to watch it 
— a photograph of which we could proudly hang in every 
home in the land. It would be a true but thrilling picture. 
Let all contribute. Inscribed on tablets around its base we 
would also place on record the Christian churches who favor 
the liquor trafiic. Oh, what a record ! At its completion Satan 
himself would shudder. Congress would vote a grand appro- 
priation, and the nation would respond and angels cry 
"Amen." 

I tell you, my friends, that this liquor question is now really 
a great question of patriotism — a question how to save our 
country. I appeal to the men of all parties, to all patriots. 
Does it need that I should appeal to Christian men ? We must 
not give up or lose this great battle. We must not let it be 
said that after only a hundred years of liberty we fell as Rome 



Platform Pearls. 161 



did, and lost our great birthright of Freedom in a mad revel 
of passion and appetite. Let no future Gibbon, in some distant 
land and under some other civilization, write the sad 
story of the downfall of the great Eepublic. Give us Prohibi- 
tion. Strike down this great enemy, the liquor trafSc, and our 
young and still mighty nation, shaking off this terrible load, 
will bound forward in a splendid and triumphant career of 
greatness and glory. — W. A. Greenwood. 



125. THE AKSENAIi AT SI»IH]VGFIEIiI>.* 

This is the Arsenal. From floor to ceiling. 
Like a huge organ, rise the burnished arms ; 

But from their silent pipes no anthem pealing 
Startles the villages with strange alarms. 

Ah ! what a sound will rise, how wild and dreary. 
When the death-angel touches those swift keys ! 

What loud lament and dismal Miserere 
Will mingle with their awful symphonies ! 

I hear even now the infinite fierce chorus. 

The cries of agony, the endless groan. 
Which, through the ages that have gone before us, 

In long reverberations reach our own. 

On helm and harness rings the Saxon hammer, 

Through Cimbric forest roars the Norseman's song, 

And loud, amid the universal clamor. 

O'er distant deserts sounds the Tartar gong. 

I hear the Florentine, who from his palace 
Wheels out his battle-bell with dreadful din, 

And Aztec priests upon their teocallis 

Beat the wild war-drums made of serpent's skin ; 

The tumult of each sacked and burning village ; 

The shout that every prayer for mercy drowns ; 
The soldiers' revels in the midst of pillage ; 

The wail of famine in beleaguered towns ; 

The bursting shell, the gateway wrenched asunder, 
The rattling musketry, the clashing blade; 

And ever and anon, in tones of thunder, 
The diapason of the cannonade. 



*By permisBion of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 
11 



162 Platform Pearls. 



Is it, O man, with such discordant noises, 
With such accui'sed instruments as these, 

Thou drownest Nature's sweet and kindly voices. 
And jarrest the celestial harmonies ? 

Were half the power, that fills the world with terror, 
Were half the wealth, bestowed on camps and courts, 

Given to redeem the human mind from error, 
There were no need of arsenals or forts : 

The warrior's name would be a name abhorred I 

And every nation, that should lift again 
Its hand against a brother, on its forehead 

Would wear f orevermore the curse of Cain ! 

Down the dark future, through long generations. 
The echoing sounds grow fainter and then cease ; 

And like a bell, with solemn, sweet vibrations 
I hear once more the voice of Christ say, " Peace ! " 

Peace ! and no longer from its brazen portals 
The blast of War's great organ shakes the skies ! 

But beautiful as songs of the immortals, 
The holy melodies of love arise. 

— H. W. Longfellow. 



126. SHAIili MOTHERS VOTE? 

When at the fireside a question that has to do with the best 
interests of the home is discussed we say, " Mother, what is 
your opinion? " Mother speaks her opinion, and what has she 
done? She has voted. Her opinion thus expressed is an oral 
vote in the government of that home. An aggregation of homes 
constitute the general government, and all rightful govern- 
mental questions are home questions. 

Now a day comes when the opinion of this home needs be 
aggregated with the opinion of a thousand other homes. Then 
mother writes yes or no on a shp of paper and drops it in the 
ballot-box. That constitutes the formula of a legal vote. Who 
assumes to say that mother shall not express her opinion ? He 
who in childhood cried for mother, and would accept only her 
knowledge of his need. In the broader home of the world's 
activity does he need her opinion less ? Blessed would be the 
nation if it were as safely counseled. — RoUo K. Bryan. 



Platform Pearls. 163 



127. ON CERTAIN ADJECTIVES. 

A " generous " liquor ! Ah, if generous 
Let it return, of what it steals from us, 
At least one-tenth ! — one soul for every ten 
In mercy let it render back again ; 
One-tenth of all the homes, the land, the gold, 
The peace, the joy, its close-mouthed coffers hold ! 
You sneer, you generous liquor. Well you know 
All things to get and nothing to let go. 
" Generous," forsooth ! 

" A royal bumper ! " " Royal ? " Yes, a king 
Whose reign means serfdom. There's no sacred thing 
This " royal" liquor fails to override. 
And whelm in fiendish lust and hateful pride. 
His regnant scepter bends, and at the sign 
Men yield themselves the crawling slaves of wine. 
His throne is built of broken hearts, his crown 
Gleams red with stars from heaven fallen down. 
" Royal," indeed ! 

" A sparkling goblet ! " Yes, yes ! — all ablaze 
With horrid hell's most haggard, ghastly rays, 
The hght of happy eyes turned to despair. 
The flash of hate, the eating flame of care. 
The glitter of a madman's awful eyes, 
The dying light that stabs one as it dies — 
Hence does the ' ' sparkling goblet " get the glow 
And radiant glances that delight men so. 
"Sparkling," forsooth ! 

'* Strong " drink, " strong " drink ! Well may we call it strong 
That drags so many myi'iad men headlong 
Down wo's most awful path to dreadful death, 
That shatters happy households at a breath, 
And fastens with its hot and crooked hands 
On temple roof and spire that loftiest stands, 
While marts and studios and statesmen's halls 
It levels to the slime wherein it crawls. 
" Strong " drink, indeed ! 

And " rare old spirits ! " Ah, how many a prayer 
Beseeches God that they become more rare ! 



IM Platform Pearls. 



Rare — till the widow's tears less common are ; 
Rare — till dismantled homes are fewer far ; 
Rare — till the children's sobs, the wives' despair, 
The drunkard's dreadful anguish, grow more rare ! 
Brothers, to work ! to work with hand and will, 
And make these "rare old spirits " rarer still ! ^ 

God for the right ! 

— Amos R. Wells, in ^'Golden Rule, 



128. MIDNIGHT SCENES OF A GREAT CITY. 

Put on your wrap this dark night and come with me to some 
of the byways of the great city. But come not if you are timid 
and faint-hearted, for this is a time to be brave ; a time wken 
you need courage. 

The streets are dark, but blacker still the opium dens. 
Their darkness is penetrated by the dim Ught of a tallow 
candle, but there is a gloom brooding over them like a pesti- 
lence and surrounding them like an atmosphere — moral dark- 
ness that can never be dispelled only by the bright hght of the 
rays of the Gospel. 

In that City of Churches, of relief societies, of Christian 
Endeavor and moral enterprise, of well-conducted newspapers, 
religious editors and thousands of Cliristians, does it seem pos- 
sible that the law^ has granted a right to open pitfalls into which 
feet, often shod only with the beauty of innocence, may fall ? 
Snares alluring them to a ruin compared to which death would 
be an untold blessing ! 

If I could but unroof those houses at some midnight hour, 
and let the law-makers, from their pinnacle of self -righteous- 
ness, look upon the effects of their laws, they would caU upon 
the rocks and the mountains to hide them. One day, when 
they have reached the border-line of time and pass into the 
great beyond, they will stand face to face with the result of 
their unrighteous legislation. AMiich of them, there, before 
the Judge of judges, will dare to ask, " Am I my brother's 
keeper?" Verily, each is his brother's keeper, and every 
wi-onged human being will then be avenged by the sentence of 
a just God. 

' ' Tho the mills of God grind slowly 
Yet they grind exceedingly small ; - - - 



Platform Pearls. 1«5 



Tho with patience he stands waiting 
With exactness grinds he all." 

Come with me into one of these dens ! 

A small room, destitute of comfort, without ventilation, 
furnished only with a rude bed — often boards across a saw- 
horse. "What will you see, a number of Chinese only ? Come 
nearer. There are women here, too. You are horrified to find 
they are white women. Come nearer still, and you will see 
traces of beauty. Yes, many of them have been beautiful 
girls. What can be more awful in any life than the star of 
hope sinking into the darkness of despair ? This daughter of 
tenderest love had been taught at a mother's knee to lisp the 
prayer : 

" Let who will be clever, but keep me pure. Oh, Lord I " 

Yes, "Lord keep me pure and good," had been her girlhood 
prayer ; but in an unfortunate moment she anchored her hopes 
to what so often fails a woman in this world, a man's change- 
ful love. As a panacea for all heartaches she sought forget- 
fulness in the lulling, soothing effects of small doses of opium. 
Finding herself a victim to opium-eating, she thought it pos- 
sible to give up the habit by taking an occasional smoke. Un- 
known to her friends, she resorted to the opium den with no other 
thought than to cure the habit of eating opium. But alas ! the 
last form of taking the drug proved more irresistible than the 
first. It was impossible to longer conceal the habit from her 
family. The dull, heavy eye, the pallid complexion and sunken 
cheeks, the languor when the effects of the opium had passed 
off, all became matters of concern to her friends. On consult- 
ing a physician, the first question asked was : 

'' Do you ever eat opium? " 

Confronted by this unexpected question, the girl was forced 
into a confession, and told she was a hopeless victim of the 
drug. The physician said to me : 

" Her description of what she suffered, how she struggled, 
fought, and prayed to overcome the habit, were awful in the 
extreme." In vain did he try, by all devices known to medical 
skill, to cure her; to no purpose. When driven almost frantic 
by the pangs of the appetite, she would steal away for just an- 
other smoke, till even hearts of love turned from her, and she 
went to live with a Chinese ; took up her abode among the filth, 
dirt, disorder, and fumes of an opium den, wliere she was so 



166 Platform Pearls. 



fully given up to debauchery that she was seldom found free 
from the intoxication. 

Seven years finishes the story ! Seven years ! It is a short 
tale — pitiful and sinful — terrible in its losses ; unspeakable in 
its heartaches and disappointments ! 

One day some one came for me to go and see a dying girl. 
In company with a lady whose guest I was, we went into the 
Chinese quarters and reaching the abode of misery, entered. It 
was no time to pull aside our garments of pui'ity lest this un- 
known woman should touch the hem. It was an awful hour ! 
A sinful woman, our sister, stood where the cold waves of Jor- 
dan rolled at her feet. The mists and dews of eternity had al- 
ready gathered about her brow and before long she must an- 
swer for a misspent life. 

Photographed upon my memory, the scene must ever abide 
with me. In soiled garments, heavy with the odor of opium, 
on a miserable bed lay the dying woman. Her eyes were 
sunken and her body reduced to little more than a skeleton. 
She knew she was dying and had sent to her relatives, imploring 
their forgiveness, entreating them to come to her; but the hearts 
in that Christian home had no room for forgiveness. She had 
brought disgrace upon an old family name that for generations 
had stood unsullied. That the first stain came through a wom- 
an was too much for forgiveness ! I doubt not had the boy 
been guilty of the same sin, at the fii'st utterance of repentance 
he would have been received with open arms. But a woman — 
where in this cruel world is there forgiveness for her ? No- 
where except where the sinful woman of old found it, at the 
feet of our Lord, who tried to teach the world a lesson when 
he turned to the men who accused her and said, ' ' He that is 
without sin among you, let him first cast a stone." Then with 
that great spirit of love which every one of his followers should 
possess, he looked in pity upon her and bade her " go, and sin 
no more." This seems to be regarded, even by Chiistians, as a 
small thing for the Nazarine to have done ; but if the Son of 
God, in His matchless purity, whose life was spotless and free 
from sin, could look in compassion upon a penitent woman, 
why is it the world is so unforgiving ? 

I knew this woman's friends had refused to come to her. I 
knew she had nothing, simply nothing, to sustain her in this 
hour of death, an hour of such indescribable darkness. 



Platform Pearls. 167 



If there is a sight in the world that will cause stout hearts 
to fail, it is to see a frail, wretched, miserable human wreck, 
trembling with fear and frantic with grief, afraid to die ! 
Standing on the brink of Eternity about to launch out into the 
great unknown, with the Star of Hope, the last friend of man, 
forever set upon the horizon of life, with human strength 
gone, yet afraid to die ! 

Here was I with a fellow creature, a sister, who in her 
better days and perhaps even now, had like longings and yearn- 
ings with myself. Longings for a purer and better life ; yearn- 
ings for home loves and the sight of dear ones ; but forsaken 
by all save the Chinese with whom she had lived, she was left 
to " climb the midnight hill alone." 

She passed 

" Out of life's history 
Into death's mystery." 

This book of a young life, with many unwritten chapters, 
was closed and sealed with the stamp of death. The written 
chapters of that life, penned in sorrow and shame, and signed 
in human blood, should be read by all who helped to make it 
possible for such a fate to overtake even the weakest of our 
race. — Jessie A, Ackerman. 



129. ONE BEAUTY OF CIVIIilZATION.* 

With all the means and appliances that progress has brought 
to aid the spread of the Gospel, it has surely raised up immense 
obstacles to that Gospel. Civilization has been so largely in- 
spired and directed by physical needs and appetites that the 
physical man has waxed fat at the expense of the spiritual. 

But civilization has done worse than this. In ministering 
to bodily appetites, it has debauched nature, creating unnat- 
ural cravings, adding, as it were, fuel to the flames ; so that 
society to-day is menaced by an evil that has had no equal 
since the hordes of savage Huns swept down to the destruction 
of Roman civilization — an evil not external, but which feeds 
and grows upon the vital forces of society itself. If any other 
power under heaven wrought such havoc and ruin among us 
as is daily and hourly wrought by all the varied forms of intem- 
perance — if any other power, I say, killed so many men 



*From a sermon at Deems Memorial Chapel, Prohibition Park. 



168 Platform Pearls. 



by such awful forms of death, wrecked so many homes, ruined 
so many lives, scattered so much disease, created so much pov- 
erty and squalor, made so many criminals, committed so many 
murderous crimes, destroyed such fabulous sums of national 
wealth ; that power would be hanged high as Haman if it took 
the national government to do it. If it were any other power, 
cities would call out their reserves, the States would call out 
the militia, the President would call out the national guard, 
and the people would rise as one man, and throttle the fiend, if 
it cost the last drop of blood to do it. But what do we see ? 
The nation, the states, the cities, the villages, for the most part 
sitting complacently by, watching the bloody orgies of this 
Polyphemus of Intemperance without Hfting a finger against 
him ! We call ourselves a Christian people, and we stand this 
thing ! We talk of the unspeakable Turk because once in a 
decade or so he feels plethoric, opens the national veins, and 
sheds a few thousand of Christian lives. It makes a difference 
where the kilhng is done, and who does it. If it is across the 
sea and by heathen Kurds, we rage; and the myriad tongues of 
the press cry out, " Why does not somebody stop it ? England 
is a craven coward ! Russia is brutish ! Germany has no con- 
science ! What is the world coming to, when such things can 
be, under the very eyes of Europe ! " But as the horrible tale 
of death and ruin wrought by intemperance is served to us 
every morning with our cakes and coffee, we pass over the 
sickening story, growUng against the public press that has be- 
come the news agency for crime and lust and blood. And we 
walk calmly along the streets by the very dens whence this 
stream of death is flowing, without a qualm, without a word, 
without a sign. This is one of the beauties of nineteenth cen 
tury Christian civihzation. — Rev. Chas. B. Kingsley. 



130. A REMEDY AVITHIN REACH. 

Yes, the church has failed us. Thousands within its ranks 
are with us ; from pulpit and pew they have stretched forth to 
us the helping hand, have given us the kindly sympathetic 
word ; yet the fact remains, that the overwhelming majorities 
— the great masses of the church — men and women — are un- 
moved by, and indifferent to the great reforms ive plead. To 
them the gi-eat temperance reform has as little personal inter- 
est as the double lines of canals on the planet of Mars ; and 



Platform Pearls. 



intelligent men and women often know as much of one as of 
the other. 

If the great masses of the church knew of, and cared for 
the degradation and destruction — the misery and misrule — 
the wreck and wretchedness caused by the liquor traffic — if 
they knew, and if they cared, how long would that " sum of 
all villainies " be throned in power by votes of bishop, preacher, 
deacon, and Sunday-school superintendent — equally with the 
votes of brewer, distiller, and saloon-keeper? Not long, not 
long ! So, too, woman reaching out for her just inheritance, 
withheld in the clear light of a knowledge that long ago scat- 
tered the darkness of barbarism — that long ago untwisted the 
stubborn perversions of Scripture always used against woman 
— that long ago tore into veriest shreds the unfair, illogical 
" Traditions of men, taught for the commandments of God," 
would every pulpit thunder forth its demands that simple, 
equal justice be done to her as to her brothers — how long 
would she be taxed without representation? How long be 
amenable to laws, unto which she had given no consent ? How 
long bear the burdens and responsibilities of a partnership that 
yields returns to others, but none to her? How long face 
anguish and risk death at the will of another to give life 
to the child in whom she must hold but a secondary claim — 
the hope cherished beneath her heart, that through the condi- 
tions of society in which she has had no voice — may become 
the torture of that heart. Tendencies transmitted — tempta- 
tions legalized by the fatherhood that deliberately dooms its 
own offspring to destruction. 

Well does the liquor traffic understand the hostility of every 
true mother heart to the wily foe that would destroy her boy. 

How natural than the utterance sent forth from the Brew- 
ers' Congress, "We are always and everywhere opposed to 
woman's political enfranchisement." 

The old political parties know full well that they must not 
offend that arrogant oligarchy if they would ride into power 
with triumphant majorities ; hence the silence of fair minded, 
intelligent politicians on this vital theme. But who will rise to 
explain to us the silence of the church on this question ? Joseph 
Cook says, "As lightning to the oak, is woman's ballot to 
the rum traffic." The rum traffic is the deadly foe to morality 
and religion. The ballot in woman's hand would rend this 



170 Platform Pearls. 



traffic asunder as lightning rends the oak. Yet the masses of 
divines, officials, and members by inertia and opposition render 
this means to the end for which they pray, as yet impossible. 

Here again has the church failed us ; and failed the cause 
we love — and our sorrow and soreness of heart are com- 
mensurate with the tender memories of 

" Her sweet communion, solemn vows. 
Her hymns of love and praise." 

But, dear comrades, there is one who has never failed ! In 
the midst of smarting wounds received in the house of friends, 
how radiant and resplendent shines that character, tender, 
true, and just — ever woman's friend — the adorable — the 
beloved Christ — Son of Mary, and Son of God ! 

With this Tower of Strength into which we may flee ; with 
this Shadow of a Great Rock in a weary land ; with this 
''Present Help" in every hour of need; with this "Elder 
Brother " and Captain of our Salvation leading the way, why 
should we fear or falter — why cry or complain ? 

Shall we not rather take up Paul's ecstatic paean "We 
are more than conquerors through Him that loved us. Neither 
death, nor life, nor angels, nor principalities, nor powers, nor 
things past, nor things to come, nor height, nor depth, nor any 
other creature shall be able to separate us from the love of 
God, which is in Christ Jesus our Lord." 

— Clara C. Hoffman, 



131. PEACE HYOTN OF THE REPUBIilC. 

There's a voice across the nation like a mighty ocean-haU, 
Borne up from out the southward, as the seas before the gale ; 
Its breath is in the streaming flag and in the flying sail — 
As we go sailing on. 

'Tis a voice that we remember — ere its summons soothed as 

now — 
When it rang in battle-challenge, and we answered vow with 

vow ; 
With roar of gun, and hiss of sword, and crash of prow and 

prow — 

As we went sailing on. 

Our hope sank, even as we saw the sun sink faint and far ; 



Platform Pearls. 171 



The Ship of State went groping through the bUnding smoke 

of war ; 
Through blackest midnight lurching, all uncheered of moon 

or star, 

Yet sailing, sailing on. 

As One who spake the dead awake, with life-blood leaning 

warm, 
Who walked the troubled waters, all unscathed, in mortal 

form, 
We felt our Pilot's presence, with His hand upon the storm — 
As we went sailing on. 

O voice of passion, lulled to peace, this dawning of to-day ; 
O voices twain, now blent as one, ye sing all fears away, 
Since foe and foe are friends, and lo ! the Lord, as glad as 
they — 

He sends us sailing on. 

— James Whitcomb Riley. 



132. AN APPEAIi FOR THE HOME. 

To-day the liquor traffic is destroying the home. 

It is impossible to estimate the waste, the ruin, the utter 
desolation in the home and the nation by the liquor license 
system. The whole traffic is evil, evil only, and that continu- 
ally. 

Not only are many homes darkened by this wasting curse, 
but every home is imperiled. Lace curtains and satin tapestries 
can not keep out the demon of rum any more than can the 
cambric shades of the cottage. ' He drags his serpent length 
across velvet carpets, as well as over the bare earth of the hovel. 
He steals up the marble staircase and along gilded halls, as well 
as down dark passageways to underground dens of squalor and 
wretchedn-ess. 

Tamerlane, the Conqueror, asked for one hundred and sixty 
thousand skulls with which to build his monument. He got 
them and built a pyramid. 

Suppose we gather the skulls of all the victims of rum ; it 
w^ould build a pyramid so vast that Tamerlane's would be as a 
mole hill beside it, and its apex would pierce the clouds. 

Oh the victims of rum ! They are found in our homes. In 
our homes did I sav ? In the homes of the whole world. The 



172 Platform Pearls. 



mother-heart of the world cries out in anguish. Where is there 
help ? Where is the strong arm that will crush this foe ? Where 
is the power that will reinstate manhood, protect the weak, 
comfort the sorrowing, give back to the bereaved their hope in 
God and humanity? 

It must come from the consecrated will of the people* them- 
selves. " God moves in a mysterious way his wonders to per- 
form." And in the heart of the homes themselves there must 
be aroused a deeper, more enlightened spirit, a higher, purer 
morality, a more deiinite appreciation of man's relation to his 
brother man and his accountability to God. — Mrs. Jessie 
Brown-Hilton, N. W. C. T. U. Secretary of Mothers^ Meetings. 



133. THE WEAKNESS OF L.OCAL. OPTION. 

Local option is a weak substitute for prohibition and is 
thoroughly unsatisfactory in practise. The enforcement of its 
provisions is nearly always left in the hands of officers who 
are either opposed to the law or indifferent to it. The conse- 
quence is that the land becomes infested with unlawful liquor 
dealers and no effort is made to drive them from their hidings. 
Agents are allowed to enter a town and openly sell their illicit 
wares while the Mayor and his brother officials look on quietly 
and smile approval without making the slightest effort to stop 
the influx. Young men hold high drinking carnivals, assaults 
are made and rioting indulged in, but an arrest is seldom made. 
All the while, the enemies of prohibition triumph and grow 
more defiant in their violations and insolence. All the while, 
so-called good men sit around inertly and discuss the deplor- 
able condition of affairs, corhfortably smoking their pipes or 
cigars or chewing their quids of tobacco, and lament the fact 
that Prohibition is a failure and weakly admit that the saloon 
might as well be running in full blast ; not once thinking it 
necessary to raise their voices in denunciation or Uft their 
hands to crush out the unholy thing. If I were a man I would 
be ashamed to occupy such a position ! If the men of this coun- 
try are unable to protect our homes by the enforcement of law, 
in the name of justice, give the women the baUot and let them 
have a chance at it ! 

How sadly do the times need men ! not cigarette-poisoned, 
whisky-inflamed, morally-debauched specimens of the mascu- 
line gender made after the fashion of a man — but, men ! pure 



Platform Pearls. 173 



in mind, upright in heart, blameless in life ! Men honest 
enough to live for truth ; courageous enough to suffer for prin- 
ciple ; unselfish enough to sink personal interest in the welfare 
of the community. Men who honor true citizenship ! Men 
who are loyal to the church of Christ ! Men who are willing 
to stand by word and deed, for righteous legislation, the puri- 
fication of politics and the abolition of the liquor traffic ! 

— Belle Kearney. 

134. GROUND OUT BY A CRANK. 

I'd rather be dumb, 
And always mum, 
Than pray like some, 
" Thy Kingdom come," 
Then vote for rum. 

I"d rather be blind 
And often maligned 
And speak my mind 
Than be behind 
An age of this kind. 

I'd rather be frank 
And called a " crank," 
Not known at the bank, 
Than stand on a plank 
Both rotten and rank. 

The cranks of to-day 
Have come to stay ; 
To vote and pray 
In the selfsame way 
Till they turn the day. 

The crank is bold 
Like Daniel of old 
When put in to hold 
The lions, we're told, 
Were badly sold. 

No wonder, I own. 

He was left alone. 

Composed, as is known. 

Like cranks, full-grown. 

Of grit and backbone. — C. M. 



174 Platform Pearls. 



135. THAT'S THE QUESTION. 

In a lone house — a small house furnished bare — there sat 
a thin, pallid woman dressed in meager garments, through 
which the cold wind blew in fitful gusts. Ai"0und her were 
huddled thi-ee thin, pale, half -starved children. There was no 
food in the pantry, no fuel in the stove. Why was this the 
case ? Ah ! that's the question. 

In a low grog shop in the neighboring hamlet, surrounded 
by a crowd of drunken men, there sat a being that had been 
a man. He was besotted with rum. His bloated face was 
buried in his red hands. He was asleep. He was a drunkard. 
Why was he a drimkard ? Ah! that's the question. 

"Mother, why doesn't father come home?" asked one of 
the three pale children of the palUd woman in the lonely house. 
Ah ! that's the question. 

"I will start out for him and bring him home, mother," ex- 
claimed the child. 

" Brave boy ! " replied the parent, between her sobs. And 
so in the cold dark night the fearless child went out. But why 
was this midnight and perilous journey necessary ? Ah ! that's 
the question. 

A tap at the door of the grog shop. A deep mutter among 
the men whose unlawful amusement it had interrupted. The 
door opened and the child walked in. "Father," he cried, as 
he leaned over the sleeping wretch, ' ' will you come with me ? " 
Ah ! that's the question. 

Father and child — drunken beast and pure, young inno- 
cence — hand in hand, pursued their lonely way over the 
dark and rocky road that led to the deserted home. By the 
side of the path was a steep precipice. Here the twain 
paused. The man sat down to think. What thoughts, think 
you, were passing through his rum-crazed brain? Ah! that's 
the question. 

They were awful thoughts — thoughts of murder. He had 
been torn away from his haunts by the fii'm hand of his 
little child. His wife had set a spy on his track. The result 
should be wiped out. But how ? Ah ! that's the question. 

Five minutes of silent but awful meditation sufiice. Start- 
ing to his feet the enraged man grasped his Uttle son by the 
waist and held him at arm's length over the steep precipice. 



Platform Pearls. 175 



"Father," murmured the child, plamtively, "shall lever 
see mother again ? " Ah ! that's the question. 

"I don't see why little Johnny doesn't come home," ex- 
claimed the pallid woman in the lonely house, as the first 
streaks of dawn lit up the empty pantry shelves. "Can any 
harm have befallen him ? " 

Dawn saw a pale man, trembling at every joint, gazing with 
bloodshot eyes over a deep precipice at a little heap of clothes 
lying on the cruel rocks below. The drunkard's brain reeled 
with horror. Had he murdered his child ? Ah ! that's the 
question. 

In a solitary cell in the insane asylum there sits a pale, thin 
man, with long white hair and vacant eyes. All day long he 
moans aloud : " Why did I do it? Oh, why did I do it ! " Oh ! 
my friend, that's the question. 

In the Judgment Day, murderers, saloon-keepers, law-ma- 
kers, pohticians and voters, distillers and doctors of divinity, 
rumsellers and religious citizens, sharers in the profits of legal- 
ized massacre, will stand before a just God. " "What hast thou 
done ? The voice of thy brother's blood crieth unto me from 
the ground. Where is thy brother ? " Oh ! thafs the ques- 
tion. — The Constitution. 



136. WANTED -TitrE MEN. 

To-day the pressing need of our country is true men. Great 
questions are before us for settlement. Stupendous problems 
are to be solved. Mighty issues present themselves for the pro- 
found thought and earnest consideration of statesmen. 

Evils which threaten the existence of our free institutions 
are abroad in the land. Gigantic wrongs are holding trium- 
phant sway and they must be righted and overthrown or this 
Eepublic, which is ours at so great a cost of blood and treasure, 
will go down amid greater ruins than followed the fall of 
Eome. O ! for men who can get hold of this generation ! 
When Greece was invaded by the armed million of Xerxes, to 
meet the awful emergency men of deathless bravery and 
patriotism sprang from mountain and valley to resist the foe. 

When despotism sought to crush out English liberty Crom- 
well and his Ironsides wdth prayer and song valiantly took the 
field and overwhelmingly defeated the forces of tyi-anny. 

When the homes and firesides of Scotland needed a cou- 



176 Platform Pearls. 



rageous defense, Robert Bruce and his clans from Highland and 
Lowland gathered in battle array and beat back the enemies of 
their freedom. 

In the days of the American Revolution when the fleets of 
England darkened our waters and the British armies landed 
upon our shores to strike down the spirit of independence, from 
every field and workshop, from city and country, from the hills 
of New England and the plains of Georgia, freemen buckled 
on their armor and drew their swords in the cause of human 
rights and won a victory that has blessed the race and placed 
our nation in the forefront of the world's progress and civiliza- 
tion. 

To-day from the sun-bathed heights of duty and righteous- 
ness and truth, God is calling upon the American people, whom 
He has so greatly favored and blessed, to put down the infa- 
mous iniquity which is yearly, daily, hourly, blighting and 
cursing our fair land, filling jails and prisons and poorhouses, 
"cutting off the children from without and the young men 
from the street " ; scattering wreck and ruin everywhere, and 
plunging lost souls, by the thousands, into eternal despair. O, 
that our countrymen would hear, and obey that voice ! May 
our eyes soon behold the gathered millions of American voters 
in their sovereign power at the polls casting their ballots for 
home and God and against the most colossal evil of the 19th 
century. 

We need men who have a ti'ue sense of life's sacredness and 
meaning and a proper appreciation of its golden opportunity. 

We need men of intense patriotism — men who will stand 
for the best interests of their native land at whatever sacrifice. 

We need men of unyielding moral courage — men, who 
knowing the right, will lose their lives, if necessary, to do the 
right. May God give us such men in this time of our countiy's 
great need. — The Quest. 



137. THE MORALllFARFARE.* 

When Freedom, on her natal day. 
Within her war-rocked cradle lay, 
An iron race around her stood, 
Baptized her infant brow in blood; 



By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 



Platfohm Pearls. 177 



And, through the storm which round her swept, 
Their constant ward and watching kept. 

Then, where our quiet herds repose, 
The roar of baleful battle rose, 
And brethren of a common tongue 
To mortal strife as tigers sprung, 
And every gift on Freedom's shrine 
Was man for beast, and blood for wine \ 

Our fathers to their graves have gone ; 
Their strife is past — their triumph won ; 
But sterner trials wait the race 
Which rises in their honored place — 
A moral warfare with the crime 
And folly of an evil time. 

So let it be. In God's own might 

We gird us for the coming fight, 

And, strong in Him whose cause is ours 

In conflict with unholy powers, 

We grasp the weapons He has given — 

The Light, and Truth, and Love of Heaven. 

— J. G. Whittier. " 

138. RUN UP THE FI.AO -NAIL IT TO THE STAFF ! 

The flag is the emblem of a nation's glory and a nation's 
power. There is a spirit of inspiration in its very folds, to the 
citizen and the subject, whose regal palace or humble hovel is 
protected by its stars and eagle, or its cross and lion. Are not 
the stars and stripes to us Ajnericans " a thing of beauty and 
a joy forever ? " 

Our fathers loved the brilliant folds, but do not we love 
them even more since they came back through the dense death 
smoke — rent and torn, to be sure, and leaving many a brave 
standard bearer behind on the field dead — but victory-crowned 
and showing to our gladdened eyes not one star plucked from its 
glorious constellation ? Oh, yes, that grand old flag is a mag- 
netic battery sending thrilling power and enthusiasm through 
and through every hand that touches the pole of its standard. 

The late war has filled the world with the romantic stories 
— stories whose truth is stranger than fiction — of valiant deeds 
done under the inspiration of our nation's flag and for its pro- 
tection. What's a nation without a flag? What's an army 

12 



178 Platform Pearls. 



without a banner ? In the holy wars of the Jews the peculiar 
people of God carried their ensign, and every tribe knew and 
followed its own banner. And we must have a flag, an en- 
sign, for the tribes of that "peculiar people" that the Lord 
God has raised up among us, the imperial army of Pro|;iibition 
Crusaders. There is already a mighty host, mighty in num- 
bers, but mightier by far in the strength of their invincible 
cause, the cause of God, and outi-aged humanity. And this 
army is reinforced with the millions of prayers and pleadings, 
the sighs and moans, the craving hunger and burning thirst of 
millions of unwilling victims of the dread power of that curse 
and tyrant of civilized lands — the traffic in bottled poisons 
icith the State seal on every cork ! 

This huge national army of rum is more than " a thousand 
thousand, and three hundred chariots of iron." But the Lord 
God raised up a standard against them, and they that are with 
us are more than they that are with them. This imperial Pro- 
hibition army must rally under a common standard, with one 
motto and one heart. It must not fight in independent divi- 
sions without unity of purpose, but in whatever part of the 
field a corps or a brigade may be engaged its blows must fall 
upon the foe at that point, where it can push through the 
enemy's thinned ranks, to the Capitol of the Rebellion — the 
legalized saloon. 

So, then, we must have a flag, and run it up, and nail it to 
the staff. Let that flag be a field of pure white, emblematic 
of the stainless sincerity of our soldiers' total abstinence ; let 
its border be of blue, betokening the imperial power of the 
omnipotent God, which surrounds our cause, and hedges us in 
from danger on every side ; and let its folds be covered with 
golden stars, the bright and precious promises of God's Holy 
Book ; words that have cheered discouraged souls, and won 
victories for the weak and the timid in many an unequal strife. 
And let there be a motto written on that ensign, not in a dead 
language, but in plain mother tongue, so every child can read 
and know its full sense and meaning, and let it be : 
PERPETUAL PROHIBITION : 

"IN GOD WE TRUST." 

By this we shall conquer ; with this we shall gather to the 
support of our cause every true man and woman, every un- 
compromising friend of temperance and humanity. By this we 



Platform Pearls. 179 



shall be able to ' ' discern between the wicked and the righteous, 
between him that serveth God and him that serveth him not." 
Then run up the flag — nail it to the staff ! No compromise, no 
surrender. This army leaves not the field until the last 
redoubt of the enemy is carried. 

— Rev. Dr. Wm. H. Boole, 



139. FOUR MILLION "CHRISTIAN" MURDERERS. 

Times change, and we change with them. The pagans of 
old Rome used to pit man against man in the gladiatorial arena 
and bid them fight each other to the death, that the popular 
love for exciting sport might be gratified. For fifteen centuries 
Christians have been boasting that that sort of brutality was 
stopped by Christianity. It is about time that these boastings 
were laid on the table indefinitely. 

In the days of Luther a great revolt was instituted against 
the sale of indulgences as carried on by Tetzel. For four cen- 
turies Protestants have been censuring the Roman Catholic 
Church for having sold indulgences to sin, for a price, and the 
Catholics have been protesting against the charge as false and 
unjust. It is about time that the dispute be laid on the table 
indefinitely. 

There never was, in the brutal gladiatorial combats of Rome, 
anything to compare, in atrocity and cruelty, with the black 
record that lies to-day upon our four million *' Christian" 
voters of America ; and the most sweeping charges brought 
against Tetzel and his times pale into insignificance beside the 
dark shame in which Catholics and Protestants are alike par- 
ticipating to-day. Where is the sense in Christians boasting 
about the cessation of the gladiatorial combats when in their 
place we have 200,000 men commissioned to employ all the arts 
that money can command in pauperizing, crazing, and poison- 
ing their fellow men '? Where is the sense in Protestants and 
Catholics disputing over the responsibility for a few indulgences 
six centuries ago when year after year they are jointly issuing 
for much smaller sums indulgences infinitely more villainous ? 

When the gladiators fought, each man had something like 
an equal chance ; to-day art is pitted against ignorance. Then 
it was a sword against sword, trained skill against trained 
skill ; now it is slow poison against unsuspecting and unin- 
formed victims. Then it was a duel ; now it is assassination. 



180 Platform Pearls. 



Then the public gazed upon slaves and barbarians fighting each 
other ; to-day men are commissioned by Christian voters to 
weave nets about their own sons and daughters and drag them 
down to a living death. Then the responsibility rested upon an 
autocratic ruler and the pagan public merely cheered the con- 
test ; to-day the people are the rulers and four million church 
members are responsible for the infamy. Then the sport was 
continued to gratify the love for an exhibition of personal skill 
and courage ; to-day our modern crime is perpetuated because 
4,000,000 church members want a certain set of wily and 
scheming politicians to win. Then, at the most, a few hun- 
dreds perished in a year ; now thousands perish every month. 
Then it was pagan darkness ; now it is Christian enlighten- 
ment. Then the fatherhood of God and the brotherhood of 
man had not dawned upon the world ; now the phrase is in 
nearly everybody's mouth. 

Four milKon " Christian " murderers ! Is the phrase the 
result of a heated imagination ? Who then is responsible for 
these thousands that stagger into di'unkards' graves each 
month? Are they responsible for their own deaths? In a 
measure, yes ; but how many thousands of them went along 
the road to ruin utterly ignorant of the physiological effects of 
liquor, believing to the last that beer is nourishing and whisky 
is stimulating, and never knowing their danger until their sys- 
tem was diseased and minds enslaved past all hope ? Who is 
responsible — the men who enticed them to di'ink and sold them 
the poison? In a measure, yes ; but how many of these have 
never had reason to question the propriety of the business, that 
is legalized and protected by the great mass of respectable citi- 
zens ? Who is responsible — those who issued the Ucenses ? In 
a measure, yes ; but these men were can*ying out the functions 
for which they had been elected to office and for which they 
received their salaries. Who is responsible — the legislators ? 
In a measure, yes ; but the legislator, in a representative form 
of government, is but an agent, a representer, of others whose 
purposes he is carrying out. Who is responsible — those who 
constitute the government, in whom reside all the authority 
and power, the voters of America, by whom are empowered aU 
who make or administer laws ? Yes ; above all others are 
these responsible for these thousands of murders, and among 
all men the voter has the least pretext of excuse for his guilt. 



Platform Pearls. 181 



The drunkard has in most cases, at least among the lower 
classes, the excuse of ignorance ; the saloon-keeper wants to 
support his family, and this is a lawful method of doing it ; the 
administrator of law and the legislator can claim to be but 
agents acting under instructions ; thousands and perhaps mil- 
hons of voters can for their share of the guilt plead an excusable 
ignorance ; but for these four million church members, or at 
least the overwhelming majority of them, what excuse is 
there? Can they plead ignorance ? If so, ignorance of what ? 
Ignorance that the saloon is sending men and women to death 
and disgrace ? Ignorance that the saloons are licensed by law? 
Ignorance that those who make the laws are elected by the 
people ? There was some show of excuse for the voter when 
the curse of slavery overshadowed the land, for the power of 
the voters, under the Constitution, was in dispute ; but to-day 
there are four milHon church members in this land who are 
directly responsible for these murders of men, women, and 
children, and not a shadow of excuse is there for their unut- 
terable crime. It is the greatest outrage upon humanity that 
has ever been recorded in history, and an infinitely blacker 
crime than African slavery ever was. — E. J. Wheeler. 



140. THE BIG FOUR AND THE LiITTIiE MAN. 

There was a man — a mighty man — 

Who wrote a mighty grammar, 
To be beat into children's heads, 

And knocked in with a hammer. 
And if you wish for grammar-lore 

His book's the place to seek it, 
It tells us how to speak our tongue 

The way we ought to speak it, 
A learned book filled up with rules, 

"With rules of all conceptions, 
Ten thousand rules from all the schools, 

Ten million more exceptions. 

There was a man — a mighty man — 

Who had a mighty " projick " 
To wi'ite a gTeat Compendium 

Of Universal Logic. 
He told us how to range our facts 

In proper collocation, 



183 Platform Pearls. 



To analyze and synthesize 
And keep from obfuscation. 

By his advice the target truth 
By hot shot could be shot full — 

He told us how to think our thoughts 
And make our thinking thoughtful. 

There was a man — a mighty man — 

A mighty rhetorician — 
Who made a rhetoric that ran 

Into the twelfth edition ; 
He taught us not to write like clowns, 

Or any coarse clodhopper, 
But how to write with elegance 

Preeminently proper. 
He told us how to write our thoughts 

In ti'ue concatenation, 
And fix and rig 'em up in style 

By rule and regulation. 

There was a man — a mighty man — 

Who made a contribution 
To wisdom's great totality — 

A work on elocution. 
He told us how to throw our arms 

To make our words emphatic, 
And told us how to twist our mouths 

To make our speech dramatic ; 
He told us how to coo like doves 

Or roar like any bison ; 
And told us how to throw our voice 

All over the horizon. 

There was a man — a Uttle man — 

A very little fellow, 
Who used to stand upon the stand, 

Just stand right up and beUow. 
He mauled and murdered rhetoric, 

Threw logic in confusion. 
And broke all the commandments of 

The Book of Elocution. 
He filled the palpitating air 

With universal clamor, 



Platform Pearls. 183 



With cracked debris of rhetoric 
And ragged shreds of grammar. 

One day the great grammarian 

And the great rhetorician 
And the great elocution man, 

Likewise the great logician, 
Went down to hear this little man, 

This very Uttle fellow. 
To see him mount upon the stand 

And then to hear him bellow. 
Loud sneered the great grammarian. 

Pooh-poohed the rhetorician, 
The elocution man was shocked 

And shocked the great logician. 

But while they sneered, these learned men. 

The ignorant congregation 
Showed its tumultuous delight 

Li thunderous acclamation. 
For, oh ! this man — this Uttle man — 

This Prohibition feUow, 
Just played upon men's heart-strings as 

Upon a violoncello. 
For tho he was a little man. 

He had a mighty message 
Which found its way to people's hearts. 

Nor stopped to pay expressage. 

The people cried and clapped and wept, 

And soon the rhetorician, 
Grammarian, elocution man, 

Likewise the great logician, 
Were laughing just like common men, 

Or crying just like the women. 
While through his sea of eloquence 

The little man was swimmin'. 
And loud haw-hawed and loud boohooed 

These deep and learned fellows — 
His hands were on their heart-strings and 

He played his violoncellos ! 

Now grammar's good and logic's good 
And rhetoric's good and proper, 



184 Platform Peaels. 

And elocution's excellent 

To train the coarse clodhopper ; 
But this my little fable shows, 

My little fable teaches, 
The man inspired with zeal for truth 

All formulas o'erreaches. 
He breaks the rules of scribes and schools 

As fast as they can make 'em. 
And grammar men and logic men 

All go to hear him break 'em. 
— Adapted from Sam Walter Foss, in "Golden Rule.'' 



141. A SHORT STORY.* 

The Newman M. E. Church is the largest in the city of 
Bloomsbarre, having over 800 members. 

The official Board is in session. 

A very animated discussion is going on over the withdrawal 
of twenty-seven of the members of the church. 

Dr. Williamson, the eloquent pastor, is speaking : 

" I admit that in point of numbers, twenty-seven out of over 
eight hundred would make but very little difference, but see 
who the twenty-seven are — the very ones who carry on our 
prayer-meetings and attend to the spiritual affairs of the church. 
It is true that they are not the wealthy part of our church, but 
a church can not be run with money alone." 

"Brother Wilhamson," spoke up the Hon. Chas. Smith, a 
member of the Legislature, ' ' I say let them go; we will get along 
much better without them. They have grown crazy over the 
Prohibition party, and right here in our prayer-meeting some 
of them have grown so bold as to declare that any man who 
did not vote their ticket was supporting the liquor traffic. Now, 
I claim to be as good a Prohibitionist as any man in the Prohi- 
bition party, and indeed, a better Prohibitionist, for the reason 
that I had the honor of voting for the enactment of our present 
hcense law, which has done more for temperance than the Pro- 
hibition party will ever accomplish." 

Then Judge Grant, one of the county Judges, spoke up : 

" Gentlemen, this recent discussion about the church being 
the bulwark of the liquor traffic is nothing short of blasphemy 
in calling the faithful followers of the Lord Jesus Christ, the 

* Copyrighted by the author. 



Platform Pearls. 185 



upholders of the rum ti'affic, the gi-eatest curse the world has 
ever seen. I agree with Brother Smith, let those Prohibition 
cranks go, and our church will then go on in peace." (Applause 
from the other members of the Board.) 

"Of course," said Dr. "Williamson, "we will have to give 
them their letters, for we can find no fault with their Christian 
character. But we have none to take their places in the pubhc 
prayet service. This is one of the evils of bringing poUtics into 
religion ; they won't mix. The Grand Old Repubhcan party is 
a good enough temperance party for me, and while it is not up 
to the standard on the temperance question that I would like 
to see it, yet I am not going to throw away my vote on a party 
that hasn't a ghost of a chance of electing its candidates." 

(Applause.) 

"I don't understand what these fanatical Prohibitionists 
want," said the Hon. Mr. Smith. " Our church, as a church, 
has declared that the ' liquor traffic can not be legalized with- 
out sin,' and nothing stronger than that could be uttered. The 
man who sells liquor for a living is worse than a " 

Just then there was a sharp knock on the door. 

" Come in," responded the double-bass voice of Dr. William- 
son. 

The door opened and the portly form of the saloon-keeper 
across the street appeared in the doorway. He was the first to 
break the oppressive silence : 

"Gentlemen, knowing this to be your regular meeting 
night, I decided to come over and inform you that I and my 
family have made up our minds to join your church and help 
along the good work you are doing." 

This speech was greeted with dumb astonishment by the 
members of the Board. Dr. Williamson was the first to 



" Have you given up the saloon business ? " 

'• No, sir," replied the saloon-keeper. 

' ' Are you going to ? " 

"No, sir ; I am conducting a respectable place and see no 
reason why I should." 

" W-e-11," slowly replied the Doctor, " our church rules pro- 
hibit us from taking in dealers in liquors, and for that reason 
we must refuse you." 



186 Platform Pearls. 



" Oh," said the saloon-keeper, a flush of anger coming into 
his already florid face, "I was not aware of that. On what 
ground does your church refuse to admit saloon-keepers ? "' 

' ' On the ground that they are engaged in a business that sends 
souls to hell," replied Dr. WilUamson. " The Bible says that 
no drunkai'd shall inherit the kingdom of God and therefore no 
drunkard-maker can. More than that, om- Board of Bishops 
has declared that the liquor traffic can not be legalized without 
sin." 

The saloon-keeper was thoroughly aroused by this time, and 
in a suppressed, angry tone, he asked : 

" Do you know that a gi*eat many of your members are reg- 
ular customers of mine ? " 

*' I have heard that some were," said Dr. Williamson. 

*' Do you know that two of this official Board, now in this 
room, are among my regular customers? " 

No reply, but two very red faces showed who had been hit. 

" Do you know that I got my hcense from Judge Grant, who 
sits right here, for which I paid the regular hcense fee ? " 

*' Hold on," said Judge Grant, "you are going too fast, my 
friend ; I do not make the laws, and I am compelled by the 
hcense law to grant hcenses ; therefore I am not responsible." 

"Well, the law was enacted by Mr. Smith there, and other 
RepubUcans." 

"You can't place the responsibihty on me," said Mr. Smith. 
"I carried out the wishes of those who elected me. Had I 
been elected on a Prohibition platform I would have voted for 
a prohibitory law. My party stands for license and I voted for 
the law." 

" I im.derstand that fully," said the saloon-keeper, "but I 
voted for you ; so did Judge Grant ; so did Dr. Williamson ; 
the rest of this Board and the great majority of the voters in 
your church. I took it for granted that all who voted for you 
beheved in hcense. Now, I am politely told that I can not join 
this heaven-bound band and that I shall go to hell. Dr. Will- 
iamson here voted for you, Smith, to pass a hcense law which 
compels Judge Grant to give me a hcense — to go to hell ! I 
am the fourth party to the agreement and %vithout the con- 
sent of you three I could not engage in the whisky business. 
You three are bound for heaven, where you will wear 
crowns and play on golden harps, while I am to suffer the 



Platform Pearls. 187 



torments of the damned ! Gentlemen, if your Bible is true, 
and I go to hell for selling whisky, you will go with me to 
hell for voting to give me the legal right of doing so. Good- 
night." 

With that he vanished, closing the door behind him with 
a vigorous slam. 

The members of the official Board looked steadfastly on 
the floor, each one seemingly afraid of breaking the silence. 
They were Christian men; believed they were doing their 
Christian duty. But the saloon-keeper, in his fierce arraign- 
ment of those present, had placed a tremendous responsibility 
on their shoulders. Each one was doing some pretty serious 
thinking when Dr. Williamson ended the silence by saying 
slowly : 

" Brethren, that saloon-keeper told us some terrible truths. 
Brethren, our hands are not clean nor our skirts unspotted. 
Let us go home and pray for light." — Tallie Morgan, 



142. JUST THE SAME. 

Yes, you hate to be bought and you hate to be sold, 
And you hate to be forced to pay Shylock in gold, 
You hate the hard times, but you're bound to die game, 
You hate 'em — but you vote for 'em just the same ! 

You hate politicians that swagger and rant, 

You hate a good deal of the old party cant, 

And you hate a large share of the ticket you name — 

You hate it, but vote for it just the same ! 

You hate to be cramped in a financial way, 
And you hate giant fraud going on day by day, 
You curse in your soul the corruption you blame — 
You curse it — and you vote for it just the same I 

You long for good laws and prosperous times, 
And you want to see boodlers sent up for their crimes. 
You want more reforms than we've space here to name, 
But — you never vote for them just the same ! 

You hope for a change, and you pray for relief, 
And you swear you'll bring partisan schemers to gi'ief , 
Then you march to the polls to put blockheads to shame 
But —vote the old ticket again just the same. 

—The Every-Day Church. 



188 Platform Pearls. 



143. A H^OMAN'S ANSWER. 

Do you know you have asked for the costliest thing 

Ever made by the hand above — 
A woman's heart and a woman's life 

And a woman's wonderful love ? 

Do you know you have asked for this priceless thing 

As a child might ask for a toy, 
Demanding what others have died to win, 

With the reckless dash of a boy ? 

You have written my lesson of duty out, 

Man-hke you have questioned me ; 
Now stand at the bar of my woman's soul 

Until I shall question thee. 

You require your mutton shall always be hot, 
Your socks and your shirts shall be whole ; 

I require your heart to be true as God's stars, 
And as pure as heaven your soul. 

You require a cook for your mutton and beef ; 

I require a far better thing : 
A seamstress you're wanting for stockings and shirts 

I look for a man and a king. 

A king for a beautiful realm called home, 

And a man that the maker, God, 
Shall look upon as He did the first, 

And say, '' It is very good." 

I am fair and young, but the rose will fade 

From my soft, young cheek one day. 
Will you love me then 'mid the f aUing leaves, 

As you did 'mid the bloom of May ? 

Is your heart an ocean so strong and deep 

I may launch my all on its tide ? 
A loving woman finds Heaven or hell 

On the day she is made a bride. 

I require all things that are grand and true, 

All things that a man should be ; 
If you give all this, I would stake my life 

To be all you demand of me. 



Platform Pearls. 189 



If you can not do this — a laundress and cook 

You can hire, with little to pay, 
But a woman's heart and a woman's life 

Are not to be won that way. 

— Mary T. Lathrap. 



144. DECORATION DAY— 1882. 

Brightly bloom the fairy flowers 

At the call of lovely May — 
Can we better use their beauty 

Than for Decoration Day ? 
Twining them with memories tearful 

For the brave we ne'er shall view, 
Strew them with a hand impartial 

Over graves of " Gray and Blue." 

Not a day of glad rejoicing, 

Not a day for jubilee, 
But to call back saddest memory 

Of a dear-bought victory, 
'Tis a day to warn our children 

Of the wrong and blinded pride 
Which brought on those bloody battles, 

Where our brave young soldiers died, 
Tell them of that dreadful war-time — 

Tell them why the soldiers died ! 

Tracing back this saddest story 

Of our Nation's rugged life — 
Past the victory, past the glory — 

Past the fratricidal strife — 
History evermore shall linger 

Picturing Slavery's dark stains, 
When a people God created 

Languished, manacled in chains ! 

Dreadful came the retribution 

Over all our country wide, 
Slavery fell in bloody carnage — 

And 'twas thus the soldiers died ! 
Freedom came with death and weeping. 

And the thousand nameless graves 
Hide our long-remembered brothers. 



190 Platform Pearls. 



Where no rose or willow waves, 
Thousands lie 'neath wild-wood blossom, 

Wet by tears of Heaven's sweet rain, 
Some we strew with rosy garlands, 

But for others seek in vain ! 

Forward looking toward the future 

Down the vista grand, of years, 
Still in power and greatness growing, 

Shall our country dry her tears, 
Otiier conquests are before us, 

Other tyranny to match — 
Other long and weary marches. 

Forts to hold, and beacons watch. 
We have fields for moral warfare 

Calhng forth the brave and bold. 
Can we sleep while giant errors 

Half our liberties withhold ? 
Ignorance sways among the millions ; 

Ruins intrenched, our homes around ! 
And opinions false and cruel. 

Chain so many to the ground ! 

Ye who bear the name of Christian, 

Ye whose lips His name invoke. 
Be not lulled by martial music, 

Look behind ambition's cloak ; 
Gospels teach, and truth is dawning — 

Peace some day shall surely reign, 
When shall gi'im war's awful visage 

Cease to gloat o'er thousands slain ? 

Haste the day when ceases carnage. 

When our flag's red stripes shall fade, 
Swords for plowshares, tears for gladness, 

Man, one brotherhood be made ! 
Haste the day which Seer and Poet 

See in visions sweet afar — 
When the Church shall dig and cover 

The red grave of the monster War ! 

When the Nations, all erdightened, 

Arbitrate their rights and wrongs, 
When all peoples, tribes, and races, 



Platform Pearls. 191 



Celebrate the day with songs, 
Work then ever brave and faithful, 

Pray — our prayers are full of power ; 
God but waits for men to waken 

To bring forth that happy hour. 

— Thos. H, Burgess. 



145. lilBKRTY. 

Strange, there should be so many opinions about a subject 
that has but one side. 

Strange, there should be so many ideas as to what consti- 
tutes personal liberty. 

" O, Liberty ! " cried the French martyr, Madame Roland, 
as she was being dragged to the guillotine by the drunken 
mob, "O, Liberty ! what crimes are committed in thy sacred 
name ! " 

It is in this sacred, but profaned name, and for such carni- 
vals of crime as those that deluged Paris with the blood of its 
citizens, that the dram shops of America are fitting the minds 
and the hearts of the people of to-day. O, sacred name of 
Liberty I What tho our fathers wrote it in martyr gi-aves 
all over this land and plucked down the stars of Heaven to em- 
blazon it upon their banners ; what tho our eagles cry it from 
every mountain peak, and bear it on their rushing wings 
through all the boundless skies, these lands with lips of blood, 
those skies with tongues of fire, proclaim our perfidy ; they 
upbraid oui- national hypocrisy and guilt. 

Here in the midst of our boasted civilization, beneath our 
flag of stars and stripes, a million poor inebriates, slaves of in- 
temperance, clank their chains of fire, in hopeless, awful 
servitude. 

And yet, this million of enslaved inebriates wield the free- 
man's ballot, control the elections, and rule this nation. They 
are bought and sold like slaves in the market. Corrruption 
runs riot at the ballot-box, in the halls of legislation, and in- 
vades even the sanctuary of Justice. 

The dram shop to-day is the supreme political power ; and 
before it rulers and people, parties and politicians, bow the 
knee of homage, and base subserviency. The heavens are 
tired of weeping over the crimes and miseries caused by the 
nquor traffic ; ! if we still fold our arms, and linger, and 



192 Platfokm Pearls. 



pause, and hesitate, and wait — it would seem that the very 
dead themselves, the buried and the martyred victims of the 
liquor ti'affic, would rend their sepulchers, and do this work 
lov us. 

But there ar^e those who are trying to do this work ; they 
constitute the Salvation Army of the temperance cause. And 
because others are shirking their duties so is the work of these 
brave soldiers all the harder to accomplish. And you would 
sometimes think, by the obstacles that are placed in our way, 
by foes from without and within, that we were trying to bring 
about some great evil, instead of the work of love and reform, 
for " God and home and native land." 

Our cause is a noble one; it is a worthy one, and it is bound 
to win. 

The principles for which we are contending are laid deep 
in the hearts of its defenders. A noble structure is being 
raised, its architect is philanthropy, its foundation walls rest 
in the hearts and souls of the x^eople. Day by day its walls rise 
higher and higher — the good, the noble, and the true, each 
contribute alike, their share of material for its completion. 

From the North to the South, from the East to the West, a 
great enthusiasm is being created. Soon the keystone will be 
set in the arch, and it will tower above us complete in its ma- 
jestic beauty. 

Down deep in its vaults shall be buried forever, not treas- 
ures, O, no ! but the tears, the sighs, the heartaches of broken- 
hearted wives and sorrowing mothers, with the wail of suffer- 
ing orphaned children. 

Its doors shall be broad enough and high enough to admit 
all temperance reformers who desire to enter therein. 

Its windows shall be as beacon-lights to guide the weak and 
erring past the rocks and shoals of danger. 

From its high tower shall chime forth a song of jubilee, and 
from the pinnacle of its spire shall float our hanner, upon 
which shall be inscribed, as in letters of flame, these words : 
" America freed from the curse of rum.'' 

Do you, my brothers, and do you, my sisters, wish to do 
your share in this great work ? If so, lend us a helping hand ; 
labor and toil for this good cause ; and you, my brothers, must 
not only labor and toil, but on every election day vote for Pro- 
hibition, and future generation will rise up and call you 



Platform Pearls. 193 



blessed. You will not only earn blessings upon this earth, but 
a rich reward in the eternity which is to come. 

— 3frs, L. E. Bailey. 

146. SIMON GRUB'S DKEAM. 

The text was this : " Inasmuch as ye 
Have done it to these, ye have done it to me." 
Soon Simon slept, for 'twas sultry weather, 
And the dream and the sermon went on together. 

He dreamed that he died, and stood at the gate 
Of the outer court, where the angels wait 
For those who hear the glad *' Well done," 
And can enter the realms of the Holy One. 

While Simon waited, and wondered if he 

Had forgotten the password, or lost the key, 

A voice above him said, loud and clear, 

" Do you know you must bring your witnesses here?" 

" Of witnesses there are many," said he, 
" My brethren and neighbors will all speak for me," 
But the brethren and neighbors came not near. 
And he heard only a whinny, familiar and clear. 

And old Gray Foot, the horse, stood just at his right, 
While around on the other side, just coming in sight, 
Was a crowd of dumb creatures so forlorn and so poor 
That the angel wept as he opened the door. 
Then Simon grew pale, and, trembling with fear, 
Said, " Oh ! why are not some of the brethren here ? 
Pray wait, pray wait, they'll surely come." 
'Twas Gray Foot that spoke then, and Simon was dumb : 

" On wintry nights I've stood in my stall, 

When the cold winds blew through the cracks in the wall, 

Till every joint and sinew and bone 

Seemed frozen and dead as the coldest stone. 

" I've shivered the dreary time away. 
With only some of the poorest hay. 
Then put to work with shout and blow. 
So hungry and faint I could scarcely go." 

Then old Brindle came, and with soft brown eyes 
Fixed on her master in sad surprise, 
13 



194 PiiATFORM Pearls. 

Told a pitiful tale of starvation and cold, 
And how he had sold her food for gold. 

The poor sheep told their story, too, 

Of bitter wrongs their whole life through ; 

Turned out in cold and stormy weather, • 

To starve and freeze and cry together. 

They were lowly cries, but they turned to prayers. 

And, floating upward, had rested there, 

Close by the ear of Him who says, 

" I will hear the cries of my poor always." 

The old house-dog, tho treated ill, 

Came near, and fawned on his master still. 

Because the love those dumb things know 

Is more than human, more faithful, more true. 

Then conscience woke like some torpid thing 
That is brought to life by the sun in spring, 
And lashed and stung him like poisoned thongs. 
As memory brought liim his train of wi-ongs. 
Forgetting nothing of word or deed, 
Of cruel blows or selfish greed. 

His cruelly-treated friends that were dumb. 
Would they follow him on through the ages to come ? 
Must he see them forever, gaunt, hungry, and cold ? 
For " Time and eternity never grow old." 

How oft in dumb pleading they'd ask a caress 
From hands that had beaten them ! Ah ! yes. 
He remembered it all, and it stung him to know 
That their pleading had ever been met with a bloAv. 

Oh ! could he live over the Uf e that was past, 

And leave out its sins, to stand here at last 

With a soul that was white, for a happier fate. 

Was it conscience that whispered, "Too late, too late I " 

He'd cruelly passed o'er life's narrowing track. 
Till remorse claimed its own — for that never turns back 
And sins scarce remembered, remembered too late. 
Grew black as he saw them from heaven's barred gate. 

'Twas in vain that he strove to speak, to say 
Those sweet old words, " Forgive, I pray." 



Platform Pearls. 195 



Sin's last sad cry ; he was silent there ; 

He was dumb with such wof ul need of prayer. 

Then voices seemed floating on every breeze ; 
' ' Ye did it to these. Ye did it to these. 
Go hence, be homeless, go starve and freeze ; 
Ye did it to these. Ye did it to these. 

"And when you are faint and weary with wo, 
You will still hear the shout, you will still feel the blow, 
"While a voice from which you shall ne'er be free 
Will whisper beside you, ' Ye did it to me.' " 

But hark ! What melody over him rolls ? 
Do the angels sing requiems over lost souls? 
His last hope had fled. In an agony new 
He awoke — to find himself safe in his pew. 

What his dumb friends thought, none ever knew 
When food was plenty and blows were few ; 
But the teacher who follows us ever, it seems. 
Gives his strongest lessons, sometimes, in dreams, 

Remember, dear friends, that the lips that are dumb. 
May be those that will speak when our time shall come 
To stand at the entrance and watch and wait 
For the angel to open or close the gate. 

— Western Humane Journal. 



147. "ABOU BEN ABHEM." 

(A CONTINUATION OF LEIGH HUNT'S POEM.) 

Abou Ben Adhem, wise with life's increase, 

Awoke one night — not from a dream of peace, 

For sorely on his faithful spirit weighed 

The pangs of all the creatures God had made ; 

And worst, man's power abused, man's charge betrayed. 

He listened, till it seemed the very stone 

To shame man's cruel hardness, made its moan. 

But vain the speechless, agonized appeal, 

While sage and saint seek only human weal. 

Then to the watcher, sad for human blame. 
The Angel with the Record, tempting, came ; 
Who stood and said : " Dost thou not envy, then. 
These, who have loved and served their fellow-men ? " 



196 Platform Pearls. 



Ben Adhem saw a long and shining roll ; 

Heroes and Martyrs, Prophets of the soul, 

Great Preachers, Statesmen molding freedom's laws, 

And gi-and Eeformers, brave in duty's cause. 

"All these," said Adhem, ''these have wrought and plS,nned 

For man already rich in brain and hand. 

Who pleads for those whom few can understand — 

Our dear dumb brothers, piteous-eyed and meek ? 

O, that I were the tongue for them to speak ! 

Nay, not for me let Fame her laurels bind. 

Nor faith her palms ; but, if thou wilt be kind, 

Write me as one who fain would choose his lot 

With those whom man despised and Heaven forgot ; 

Who found in fields and woods his friendly teachers. 

And ever loved his lowliest fellow creatures." 

The Angel wrote and vanished. The next night 
He came and showed, high on his roll of light. 
The names of those who served their own race best ; 
And lo ! Ben Adhem's name led all the rest. 

— Caroline Spencer. 



148. A I.ETTEB EXERCISE. 

[In Concert.] 
We've a story to tell you to-night, dear friends, 

A story so strange and sad. 
We shall spell you the name of a well-known thing 

That is dangerous, cruel, and bad. 

We wish we might tell you of pleasanter things. 

Or say that this curse is not here. 
But such ruin and sorrow, such danger and pain, 

Oh how can we silently bear. 

[Separately.] 
S is for Sorrow, Shame, and Sin 

That come with the use of strong drink — 
Or it stands for Sober, Safe, and Sound — 

Now, which is the best, do you think ? 

A is the aching of mothers' hearts 
As they see their boys destroyed. 



Platform Pearls. 197 



Or A is the Appetite binding the slave 
Ere he learns strong drink to avoid. 

L is for Lives by Liquor Laid Low — 

By thousands and thousands they fall, 
Or L is the License to do this foul wrong, 

To murder, to rob, to despoil. 

O is for Orphans whose fathers have died 

Because they drank legalized rum. 
O is Oppression in this our fair land, 

Destroying our friends and our home. 

O is Opinion about this thing — 

But what is it worth, tell me, pray, 
Unless we are earnest to act as we think 

And try to put evil away ? 

N is the Nation, a partner to-day 

In this worst of all evils we know. 
Accepting the bribe of a share of the gold 

That is made by this business so low. 

N means for Noble men Now to say No ! 

To say No ! to the poisonous slop. 
To say No ! to the man who permission would ask 

To open an alcohol shop. 

{In Concert.'] 
S-A-L-O-O-N is the hateful word, 

We have read it upon the street, 
'Tis a business place, like a dry goods store, 

With its sign all painted neat. 

But our mothers have taught us truly and well 

'Tis a business of wrong and death — 
Tho protected by law like any good thing. 

There's a gulf of dark ruin beneath. 

We've learned, too, that votes are what keep the saloons- 

We wish that the children could vote. 
We'll show where saloons then would speedily go, 

Right where they belong, underfoot. 

We can stamp out this miserable business 
If we want to and try to, we know ; 



198 Platform Pearls. 



That is, you can, dear friends — 
"We will pray while you vote ; 
Won't you say, " The saloon must go f " 

— Eva Jones. 

149. A lilTTIiE GIRIi'S ADVICE. 

I am but a little girl. 

Very small and weak ; 
But I'm going now to try 

One small piece to speak. 

Just a little tiny verse, 

Maybe they are two — 
Anyway I promise this : 

I won't tire you. 

This is what I have to say, 

Do the thing that's right ; 
That which you beheve to be 

Pleasing in God's sight. 

Leave results to Him, He knows 

What is wise and best ; 
Do your duty, do it now. 

Trust Him for the rest. — Union Signal. 



150. GETTING AT THE ROOT. 

It has gone out of fashion to abuse saloon-keepers, to rail 
against the iniquity of the liquor traffic and tell blood-curdling 
stories of the brutal acts of drunken men. There is no philoso- 
phy in it. Temperance workers have grown weary of lopping 
off the branches and cutting away the leaves of the upas tree 
of strong drink, and are beginning to dig for its roots. These 
are found creeping in every direction. Part have wound them- 
selves around the national capitol at Washington and the leg- 
islative halls of every state ; part have run back to the home 
and into society, and part, alas ! have coiled themselves tightly 
about the pillars of the church. 

While riding over Toronto once with a party of friends, our 
driver, who was a witty Irishman, stopped the carriage at a 
certain point and said : ' ' Here are four comers. On the first 
is a college, on the second is a church, on the third is the Par- 
liament building, and on the last is a saloon. They are called 



Platform Pearls. 199 



respectively : Education, Salvation, Legislation, and Damna- 
tion." These four corners are near neighbors in more places 
than Toronto, and the saloon corner is the most popular and 
powerful of all. Without doubt, the liquor traffic is the most 
potent factor in modern civilization. How has it gained its 
strength ? Thi'ough the license system. It has been legalized 
and made a legitimate institution. The clink of gold has dead- 
ened the consciences, blinded the eyes, silenced the tongues, and 
palsied the hands of the sons of men. By such treacherous 
logic it deceives the best of citizens and makes them enter 
into a compromise that kills their principle and transforms 
them mto slaves. A great deal is said about Prohibition faihng 
to prohibit. We have never had a full prohibitory law yet, and 
never shall have until congress unites with the people to secure 
one. Instead of license checking the consumption of liquor, it 
increases its volume many fold by the cloak of respectability 
that it gives the traffic, by establishing its position in business 
life, and by drawing the liquor dealers of the state and nation 
into a mighty combination that constitutes the leading mon- 
eyed and political power of the land, rendering it almost in- 
vincible. Prohibition for the states is made null and void by 
the protection that the National Government gives the liquor 
traffic ; by the shipment of liquor from state to state, the issu- 
ance of permits, and the importation of liquor from foreign 
countries. 

Away with such a system of license. Its folly and wicked- 
ness should be our shame, as they already are our ruin. Let 
us stand for a rational, clean-cut, patriotic policy of destruc- 
tion for the destroyer arid protection for the home. 

— Belle Kearney. 



151. MOTHERS l¥HO IVEAR THE RIBBOJV TTHITE. 

Mothers who wear the ribbon white. 
Longing to keep the hearthstone bright. 
Yearning to make the home so fair 
That nothing evil can enter there — 
Dearer, oh, dearer than life to you 
Is the beautiful boy with eyes so true. 
Oh, could you only keep him so — 
Sweet as violets — pure as snow ! 



200 Platform Pearls. 



Mothers who wear the ribbon white, 

A dainty daughter is yours to-night, 

A wee, little, soft-eyed, clinging girl, 

Pure and fair as the rarest pearl. 

Innocent-hearted, free from guile — 

But oh, she is yours such a little while ! 

Could you but keep her as she is now, 

With the innocent eyes and the truthful brow I 

Mothers who wear the ribbon white 

Are we in earnest in this great fight ? 

Are we believing that good will come 

If only our part of the work be done ? 

Oh, are we striving as strive we should 

With all the power of womanhood. 

Pleading in prayer, and laboring, too, 

That the world may grow honest and good and true? 

He who has promised His blessing will give — 

He who suffered that we might live — 

He who took to His pitying breast. 

Those long-ago children so wondrously blest — 

Ask it in faith and only believe 

And strength for the burden the soul shall receive ! 

Oh, mothers who cherish the ribbon so white, 

'Tis coming ! 'tis coming ! the triumph of right. 

— Harriet Francene Crocker. 



152. liEAD THE BO\r. 

Of a loving household band 

He's the joy ; 
Father, may thy guiding hand 

Lead the boy. 
He's the child of hope and prayer ; 
From the wily tempter's snare, 
From the depth of dark despair, 

Lead the boy. 

Of a loving mother's heart 

He's the pride ; 
Father, may no cruel dart 

Hope deride ; 
Let no evil enter in 



Platform Pearls. 201 



To defile his heart with sin, 
Keep him pure and white within, 
Lead the boy. 

May the memory of home 

Ne'er depart, 
Round the fireside altar cling 

Loving heart. 
In the future years to come 
As he wanders far from home 
Guard him through life's journey lone, 

Lead the boy. 

From the wine-cup's ruddy glow — 

Fleeting joy, 
Where the poison lurks within, 

To destroy ; 
From the shrouded path of gloom, 
Fi'om the drunkard's fearful doom, 
From the shadows of the tomb 

Lead the boy. 

And when life is ended here 

Safe at last, 
Free from earthly strife and sin 

May he pass ; 
To the higher realms above, 
Where, redeemed by thy dear love, 
Saved at last our prayers will prove — 

Lead the boy. 



153. CONSCIENCE CRYSTAIitlZEB.* 

There is a medium of exchange that is more important to a 
country than its money. 

It is Ught, precious, untarnishable, and indestructible. It 
may be lost but not spent, stolen, sweated, hoarded, cornered, 
or counterfeited. It is uninflatable, it was never known to be 
at a premium, it is incapable of discount — inexorably par. It 
is always equal to the volume of trade. It is adapted equally 

* From address at the Prohibition National Convention in Pittsburg, Pa., 
May 87, 1896. 



202 Platform Pearls. 



to great and small transactions. It is the highest security for 
a bank's issue or a laborer's wage. It appertains alike to busi- 
ness, society, government, and religion. If it be used by a 
double standard of unequal intrinsic measuring power, the 
baser token drives out the nobler and makes itself the e:J5,clusive 
measure-unit of the local market, whatever fiat may forbid the 
usurpation. Nevertheless, the nobler thing, albeit unminted 
or in exile, remains the arbiter and autocrat of values for all 
nations, for both worlds, for time, and for eternity. 

It is conscience, the one possession of humanity that can 
not be degraded to a commodity, the one unshrinkable asset of 
the universe. 

But conscience can be crystallized only about a fact, it is 
never visible in a mere theory, and so we have to have ' • an 
issue " from the start, it must be an undebatable fact. We 
found the liquor traffic ready to our hand. The church had 
denounced it the enemy of God and man. The law had branded 
it a public enemy. The courts had declared it a nuisance. 
Ethics, economics, sociology, criminology, physiology all 
agi-eed. No voice defended it. 

What shall our issue be ? 

There is but one possible. 

Read it on the banners yonder. 

Read it in the faces of these women. 

Read it in the resolutions of the church. 

Read it in the statutes. 

Read it in the Supreme Court reports. 

Read it in the hospitals. 

Read it in the madhouses. 

Read it in the prison bars whence bleared and hopeless eyes 
look out to haunt you. 

Read it in the potter's field. 

Read it everywhere. 

Oh, friends ! I see in your eyes a look that never came of 
thinking of gold or silver or tariff or party. Yom- own faces 
confess my argument. Your own hearts are saying that we 
ought to march into this campaign, no ragged battalions of 
theorists with a dozen flags, but all together, close order, quick 
time, forward to the glory of God the Father ! 

— John G. Woolley. 



Platform Pearls. 203 



154. A PEOPIiE'S VOICE.* 

Men of Columbia ! where's the manly spirit 

Of the true-hearted and the unshackled gone ? 
Sons of old freemen, do we but inherit 
Their names alone ? 

Is the old Pilgrim spirit quenched within us , 

Stoops the strong manhood of our souls so low, 
That Mammon's lure or Party's wile can win us 
To silence now ? 

What ! shall the statesman forge his unseen fetters, 

Shall the false jurist righteous laws deny. 
And in the church, their proud and skilled abettors 
Make truth a lie ? 

Torture the pages of the hallowed Bible, 

To sanction crime and robbery and blood, 
And in the Rum King's hateful service, libel 
Both man and God ? 

Shall fair Columbia stand erect no longer, 

But stoop in chains upon her downward way. 
Thicker to gather on her limbs and stronger 
Day after day ? 

O no ; methinks from all her wild green mountains, 

From valleys where her slumbering fathers lie, 
From stately cities, broad streams, welling fountains. 
And clear blue sky — 

From each and all, if God hath not forsaken 

Our land, and left us to an evil choice, 
Loud as the summer thunderbolt shall waken 
A People's voice. 

O, let that voice go forth ! The bondman sighing 

For long-lost freedom from Drink's galling chain, 
Shall feel the hope, within his bosom dying. 
Revive again. 

Let it go forth ! The millions who are gazing 

Sadly upon us from afar, shall smile. 
And unto God devout thanksgiving raising*, 
Bless us the while. 



*By permission of Houghton, Mifflin & Co. 



204 Platform Pearls. 



O, for your ancient freedom, pure and holy, 

For the deliverance of a groaning earth, 
For Liquor's victims, bleeding, crushed, and lowly ; 
Let it go forth ! 

Sons of the best of fathers 1 will you falter * 

With all they left you periled and at stake ? 
Ho ! once again on Freedom's holy altar 
The fire awake ! 

Prayer-strengthened for the trial, come together, 

Put on the harness for the temperance fight, 
And with the blessing of your Heavenly Father, 
Maintain the Right ! 

— Adapted from J. G. Whittier. 



155. A FATHER'S H^OE — HIS RESPONSIBILITY. 

A father recently called upon me to labor with his drunken 
son, and, if possible, to persuade him into a sober life. The 
head of this father, and that of his good wife, have rapidly 
whitened under the grief and disappointment caused by the 
fact that their eldest born is a confirmed and, apparently, hope- 
less di'unkard. 

I know of no more deUghtf ul or Christian home than that 
of this friend. A devoted and domestic mother has spent her 
best years for her sons, but, alas, this sorrow. Everything that 
persuasion and medical skill could do has been tried to reform 
this loved one, but to no avail. After the hope of the Keeley 
cure, which was the last effort made, was shattered, the father 
appealed to me. 

My reply was, " No, sir, I can do nothing for your boy. I 
prefer laboring with you, the responsible party." The father 
looked with amazement, and said : '' Labor with me ! you know 
I am a strict teetotaler and not a drop of intoxicants has ever 
been permitted in our household ; the boy never learned to 
drink at home. It has been the saloon, with its open 
door, that has ruined James." "Certainly," I replied, "it is 
the open saloon that has done this deadly work. But are you 
not responsible for these open doors, so far as you have the 
power to be? The saloon exists because of license laws, and 
you have voted for men to make these laws. Of course, where 
there are saloons, there must be drunken boys. Have we not 



Platform Pearls. 205 



had three sets of candidates nominated for the Legislature, the 
body that legally controls this business, before the voters of 
this county, for many, many elections? Yes, one was a 
Democrat, who publicly declared that he would legislate for 
the open saloon. No one could be deceived as to what he 
would do if elected. Another was a Republican, who as loudly 
proclaimed that he would permit the saloons to run, with open 
doors, if each would pay into the city treasury $250. No one 
was necessarily deceived by him. Another was a Prohibition- 
ist, who fearlessly announced that if he gained a seat in this 
law-making body, he would make it a crime with ample pun- 
ishment, to sell this poison, indiscriminately, in any com- 
munity. This candidate is always selected with reference to 
his sobriety, ability, and Christian character. He is always 
recognized as an able man for the position. Did you, good 
father, vote for the man (or the party) who promised to protect 
your boy instead of the saloon, the man who would have made 
it easy for your boy to have escaped temptation, to have done 
right, to have gi'own into a sober manhood r " 

The father looked steadily upon the floor, in deep medita- 
tion for a moment, and said : ' ' No, I have believed that the 
Republican theory of high license was the best solution of the 
saloon question, and I have always voted that ticket." 

I replied, " Very well, than do not complain now that you 
have a drunken son. You have sown a high license ballot, you 
have reaped a high license boy. I know of no man in our county 
better situated to have a drunken son than you are. You have 
home and wealth, a spirit of patience and charity ; you can 
and will shelter and care for him and his little family. It is 
far better that your son should be a drunkard than that the 
son of some poor widow or of aged parents dependent upon 
such a boy should fall by the way. It is indeed selfish in you 
to vote for the high license saloon and wish that other sons 
than your own should be drunken, and yours should escape. 
The city treasury has the $250, you have the boy. You are the 
more responsible because you are a regular attendant upon 
prayer meeting and church service and an officer in a Chris- 
tian church. You have not sinned without the light, for you 
have heard the appeals of nearly all our best advocates of Pro- 
hibition; you have had an abundance of literature placed in your 
hands, but apparently to no avail. You have made an idol of 



Platform Pearls. 



paxty and your party legislation has ruined your son. If your 
sorrow scourges your conscience, remember it is God's way to 
punish those who violate his law, at the ballot-box, as else- 
where, for ""Whosoever plougheth iniquity and soweth un- 
righteousness, reapeth the same." 

With pale face and a sense of deep humiliation, the father 
said, " I never saw it in that hght before. I will ask God to 
forgive me for my blindness and hereafter vote to protect the 
boys instead of the saloons." 

Fathers before me, look into the cradles, into the innocent 
faces of the rising generation, and the boys of larger grovrth, 
and answer, at the ballot-box, every election day, whether it is 
more or less t-a-r-i-f-f, or more or less whisky that needs legis- 
lative attention, at youi- hands, until this saloon problem is 
fully settled, and settled right. — Helen M. Gougar. 



156. THE ^VHITE RIBBON STAR SPANGI.ED 
BANNER. 

Fling it out to the breeze ; let it tell to the world 

That the faith which has raised it will never surrender ; 

Let it tell that the love which om- banner unfurled, 
Is the guard of the home and the nation's defender ; 

Let it gleam as a star, for the shipwrecked afar. 

Like a beacon that warns of the treacherous bar ; 

Let that banner of freedom and purity wave. 

As a signal of hope 'midst the perils we brave. 

Hold that banner aloft ; let our colors be seen 

From Siberian snowfields to African valleys, 
Lift it up for the truth ; let the rays of its sheen 

Drive the shadows of night from the byways and alleys. 
Let it tell to the lost that we count not the cost, 
That our bridges are burned and our Rubicon crossed ; 
That the banner of motherlove ever shall wave. 
Till the paths are made straight for the sin-burdened slave. 

Let it fly at the front ; it is washed in our tears. 
And the smoke of the battle increases its whiteness, 

Tho our hearts may be pierced by the enemy's spears. 
Yet the flow from our woimds shall but add to its bright- 
ness. 

And this ensign of light, it shall float o'er the fight. 



Platform Pearls. 207 



Till our wrongs are avenged by the triumph of right ; 

And a radiant victory at last it shall wave 

O'er the ramparts we've stormed, o'er King Alcohol's grave. 

Swing it out from the staff, let it shadow the ground 

Where the fathers of liberty sleep 'neath the mosses ; 
Run it up o'er the homes where the mothers are found 

Who through watches of anguish are counting their losses. 
In the tear-moistened sod, which our martyrs have trod, 
We are planting it deep for our land and our God. 
And this banner of world-circling love e'er shall wave 
In the name of our Christ, who is mighty to save. 

— Kate Lunden. 

157. ON A liEHIOH VAL.L.EY TRAIN.* 

It was the morning after election. 

The Lehigh Valley day coach between New York and 
Buffalo was pretty well crowded, and naturally the general 
discussion was the election. 

The attention of the passengers was attracted to a clerical- 
looking individual who sat about the center of the car and 
who was talking in a rather excitedly loud tone of voice to 
a man in the seat just ahead. 

The reverend gentleman was saying : 

"No, sir; I did not throw away my vote, but you and 
every other man that voted the Prohibition ticket did. I be- 
lieve in Prohibition, preach for Prohibition, and pray for Pro- 
hibition- " 

" But vote for whisky," quietly interrupted the man in the 
front seat. 

' ' You insult me, sir ! " replied the preacher in a voice that 
startled everybody in the car, and at once all the passengers 
ceased their conversation and gave their attention to the 
preacher. "No man shall tell me in my face without being 
rebuked that I vote for whisky. I have preached for twenty 
years, and my voice has always been for Prohibition, but I do 
not believe in bringing the matter into politics. I have voted 
with my party for over twenty years and don't propose to throw 
away my vote on a party that never can elect its candidates." 

Just then a man sitting in a rear seat, who had been an in- 
terested listener to the discussion, came forward, and fastening 

* Copyrighted by the Author. 



208 Platform Pearls. 



two bright black eyes, which looked out through a pair of gold 
eyeglasses, on the preacher, said : 

" Pardon me, sir; did I understand you to say you are a 
preacher ? " 

"Yes, sir." * 

" That you believe in Prohibition? " 

" Yes, sir. I have preached it for twenty years, and I be- 
lieve the liquor traffic to be the curse of this nation, and that 
every rumseller ought to be behind prison bars." 

" You also said you voted yesterday for the candidates of 
one of the old parties ? " 

" Yes, sir ; the party I have always supported." 

'' Is your party in favor of license or prohibition." 

" I don't tliink the question has anything to do with politi- 
cal parties." 

" Probably not, but did any rumseller vote the same ticket 
as you ? " 

" Oh, yes ; probably many thousands of them." 
" Do you think that a single rumseller in the United States 
voted the prohibition ticket yesterday ? " 

" Certainly not." 

"Why?" 

"Why? Why, because they would be fools to support a 
political party that would, if it got into power, sweep away 
their business into everlasting oblivion." 

"Oh, I thought you said the question of Prohibition was 
not a political one. The rumsellers evidently think it is. 
Now, sir, if a liquor man who believes in license, defends 
license, spends money for it, talks it and votes it, would be a 
fool to vote the Prohibition ticket, I would like to know what 
you are, who believe in Prohibition, preach it and pray for it, 
but vote the same ticket as the rumseller ? " 

There was a pause. The sharp, black eyes of the questioner 
were fixed on the reverend gentleman, who evidently was not 
prepared for such a direct thrust. 

Finally he managed to say: " I refuse to answer such an 
insulting question, sir. I vote according to the dictates of 
my conscience and " 

"I beg your pardon, sir, but you do nothing of the kind. 
Every time you cast your ballot for your rum-ruled liquor law 
party you vote in direct opposition to your conscience and you 



Platform Pearls. 209 



know it. You also know that the liquor business of this na- 
tion is licensed every year by law. You know that political 
parties make and maintain the law. You know that your 
political party could not, if it would, pass or enforce prohibit- 
ory laws. You know that fully one-half of the saloonists and 
brewers and distillers of this land vote the same ticket as you 
do. 

" You know that your vote yesterday will be counted as 
being in favor of the saloon. You know that the only way 
you can inform the government that you believe in Prohibition 
is through a Prohibition ballot. You know that there are 
4,000,000 Christian voters in this nation who profess, like your- 
self, to favor Prohibition, but the most of whom vote every 
year with you for whisky. You know that the angel Gabriel 
could not pick out your vote from that of a rumseller as it lay 
in the box yesterday. 

"You know all this, I say, and yet you raise your hands 
in a holy protest when this gentleman here ventured to re- 
mark that you voted for whisky. Let me tell you, sir, that the 
rumseller who votes with his license party for the protection 
and perpetuation of his business is a thousand times more de- 
serving of respect for honesty and consistency than you, who 
profess to favor Prohibition, but voting directly for whisky. 
Your professions in that line, sir, are a lie, your preaching a 
farce, your prayers a mockery, and your vote a protest against 
your own conscience, your church and your God ! " 

Just then a brakeman opened the door and in a slow, dis- 
tinct and sonorous voice cried out : 

"AUentown! Change here for Reading and Harrisbm-g! 
Do not overlook your baggage ! " 

The preacher made a dive for his coat and valise and darted 
out of the car, saying as he went : " Sorry I can't stay with 
you longer. I'll think over what you have said." 

— Tallie Morgan. 



14 



158. THE CAIiF PATH. 

One day through the primeval wood 

A calf walked home, as good calves should, 

But made a trail all bent askew, 
A crooked trail, as all calves do. 



310 Platform Pearls. 



Since then two hundred years have fled, 
And, I infer, the calf is dead. 

But still he left behind his trail, 
And thereby hangs my moral tale. 

The trail was taken up next day 
By a lone dog that passed that way ; 

And then a wise bell-wether sheep 
Pursued the trail o'er vale and steep. 

And drew the flock behind him, too. 
As good bell-wethers always do. 

And from that day o'er hill and glade 
Through those old woods a path was made, 

And many men wound in and out, 

And dodged, and turned, and bent about. 

And uttered words of righteous wrath, 
Because 'twas such a crooked path ; 

But still they followed — do not laugh — 
The first migrations of that calf ; 

And through this winding wood- way stalked, 
Because he wobbled when he walked. 

This forest path became a lane. 

That bent and turned and turned again ; 

This crooked lane became a road, 
Where many a poor horse with his load 

Toiled on beneath the burning sun. 
And traveled some three miles in one. 

And thus a centuiy and a half 
They trod the footsteps of that calf. 

The years passed on in swiftness fleet ; 
The road became a village street. 

And this, before men were aware, 
A city's crowded thoroughfare. 

And soon the central street was this 
Of a renowned metropolis ; 



Platform Pearls. 311 



And men two centuries and a half 
Trod in the footsteps of that calf ; 

Each day a hundred thousand rout 
Followed the zigzag calf about, 

And o'er his crooked journey went 
The traffic of a continent ; 

A hundred thousand men were led 
By one calf near three centuries dead ; 

They followed still his crooked way, 
And lost one hundred years a day, 

For thus such reverence is lent 
To well-estabhshed precedent. 

A moral lesson this might teach, 
Were I ordained and called to preach. 

For men are prone to go it blind 
Along the calf -paths of the mind, 

And work away from sun to sun 
To do what other men have done. 

Enacting *' wise," evasive laws 
Pertaining to the temperance cause. 

They follow in the beaten track, 
And out and in, and forth and back. 

And still their devious course pursue. 
To keep the path the others do. 

But how the wise old wood-gods laugh. 
Who saw the first primeval calf ! 

All ! many things this tale might teach, 

But I am not ordained to preach. 

Adapted from Sam Walter Foss, in ''Golden Rule.' 



159. WANTED — A BOY! 

Mr. A , the rector, is dying to-day, 

With the hope of heaven on his face ; 
He'll be missed in the pulpit and home, when we pray. 

Wanted — a boy for his place. 



212 Platform Pearls. 



IMr. B , the judge, is dying to-day, 

With the hues of true hfe on his face ; 
He'll be missed on the bench for many a day. 

Wanted — a boy for his place. 

Mr. C , the doctor, is dying to-day, ♦ 

And a sympathy beams on his face ; 
He'll be missed in the homes, when disease comes to stay. 

Wanted — a boy for his place. 

Mr. D , the saloon-keeper, is dying to-day, 

With a look of dread on his face ; 
He'll be missed where the path leads downward alway. 

Wanted — a boy for his place. 

Mr. E. , the drunkard, is dying to-day ; 

Oh, the marks of sin on his face ! 
He'll be missed at the club, in saloon, in the fray. 

Wanted — a boy for his place. — Indiana Phalanx. 



160. THE RECORD OF NON-JPARTISANSHir. 

For twelve long years, " non-partisanship " has controlled 
the great mass of the nominal friends of temperance. What 
has it accomphshed ? 

In many ways it has kept the standard low. Instead of 
sounding the bugle call to high endeavor, it has weakly ' ' peti- 
tioned " and made futile attempts to iim caucuses, and tried to 
help elect a " good man " in this or that license party (usually 
" this "); it has sustained a law which involves an option to sin ; 
it has brought about a vote on a prohibitory amendment, after 
the great hquor parties have organized its defeat ; it has left 
Prohibition, wherever enacted, a helpless orphan ; it has mag- 
nified the supposed blessings of such compromise measures as 
the screen law, the civil damage act, the 200 feet law, the Sun- 
day closing law, and many petty changes in that four-hundred- 
year failure, the license system, and it has seen to it that each 
of these pet features was also an orphan. 

It has diverted attention from the main work, by organizing 
the "Voters Union " in Ohio in 1883, the State Temperance 
Assembly in New York in 1884, the National Non-Partisan 
League in 1884, the " Union Prohibitory League" in Pennsyl- 
vania in 1889, and numerous other like failures whose graves 
are green. 



Platform Pearls. 213 



" Non-partisanship " has afflicted us with " High License" 
and " State Control," which give a tremendous "revenue ' club 
to our opponents. 

Even now, "non-partisanship" is trying to mislead the 
young students of Christian citizenship into these same swamps 
and bogs where their elders have so long floundered. 

In 1884 the aggressive temperance sentiment of America, was 
fast crystallizing into the National Prohibition party. The vote 
leaped from 10,000 to 150,000. Angels held their breath, for 
the mightiest moral revolution since Pentecost was impending. 
But "non-partisanship" blocked the way, and shrewdly de- 
ployed the forces of timidity, conservatism, and party spirit to 
check the rapid unification of moral power, and to delay the 
ti'iumph of right. In this, while " powerless for good it was 
powerful for evil." It has ever interposed the lower issue. It 
has done its work. It has made its record. It has granted liquor- 
dom time to create the most oppressive monopoly and the 
greatest political power which this land ever saw. It has di- 
vided our friends and compacted our foes. 

For twelve years ' ' non-partisanship " has wrought its will 
upon our land. Figm-e for yourself the dreadful total. Twenty- 
five thousands of millions of dollars, lost by American homes 
and American labor, because of toying with this j)itiful " fad." 

More than one million of human lives, sacrificed during 
these twelve years of temporizing with crime. A nation of 
compromises. Heroism a memory. " Revenue " regnant. Sobs 
and wails in millions of homes. "Non-partisanship" in full 
fruitage. 

Men and brethren, we can not pay this terrible cost. Let 
us abandon this Aveakness. Let us be men — and not eunuchs. 
Let us have convictions which are strong enough to dominate 
our votes. Let us be manly "partisans" in behalf of right. 
Let us lift a party banner around which alone the church and 
our Christian citizenship can consistently rally. Let us proudh' 
and steadily and devotedly stand for that " partisanship " which 
is both wise and strong. Then we can strike telling blows for 
our God, our country, and our homes. — A. R. Heath. 



161. A PUZZLf:i» SANTA CliAUS. 

Oh, say, it's the funniest story ! 
I've just heai-d all about it, you see ! 



214 pLATroRM Pearls. 



And I hurried right over to tell you, 
'Cause a part of it means you and me. 

In Christmas-land (you know where that is, 

Tho ne'er a geography tells. 
Away, far away toward the sunlight, 

Is where Santa — old Santa Claus, dwells) — 

In Christmas-land, whispers of trouble 
Were afloat in the air. " It's so queer 1 " 

Said Santa's chief clerk, "for we always 
Have sunshine and gladness up here. 

' ' But surely there's something the matter, 

For never in all of my life 
Have I seen Father Santa so worried, 

Nor so bothered, Dame Goody, his wife." 

And just then a bugle rang clearly, 

And fairies and elfins and aU — 
Yes, all of the Santa Claus helpers, 

Went hurrying off to the hall. 

To the great, bright hall of the palace, 

And Santa awaited them there, 
His eyes all aglow in the sunlight, 

And gold-crowned his snowy-white hair. 

" It's all right ! " they said one to another, 
'* Father Santa's discovered a cure 

For the trouble that worried and vexed him. 
And he'll tell us about it, be sure." 

And old Santa did tell them the story. 
And he told it so well that they cried. 

And then laughed and hurrahed till the echoes 
Went ringing through Christmas-land wide. 

Of course I can't tell it as he did, 
But I'll do just the best that I may 

To explain why dear Santa looked troubled 
When he thought of the glad Chi-istmas-day. 

You see he had planned all his presents. 
And his people were working by night 

And by day, so they'd surely be ready 
With the Christmas-time's store of delight. 



Platform Pearls. 215 



But just as he rubbed his hands gaily, 
And chuckled to think there would be 

No delay in the filling of stockings, 
No lack in each Christmas-tide tree, 

Lo ! a telegraph-boy with a message. 
And it read, " Mr. Dear Santa Claus, 

There are boys and girls, ever so many, 
Who can't have any Christmas, because 

" Their papas have lost all their moiiey — 
And the rumsellers stole it, we b'lieve — 

We big ones can stand it, but babies — 
Say, Santa, you know how they grieve. 

" Now can't you just help us a little f 
Just enough so the babies will think 

That Christmas means loving and kissing, 
And something to eat and to drink 9 " 

Poor Santa ! Sure never and never 
Was he half so much troubled and vexed, 

" Some children — and nothing to give them, 
No wonder the saint was perplexed. 

His gifts were all promised. The orders 
Had been in for a twelvemonth or more, 

Dame Goody assured him the helpers 
Were working as never before ; 

No time and no stock for the making, 

Not even a dolly to spare, 
Nor so much as a bagful of candy. 

No wonder he groaned in despair. 

But Santa's not worked for the children 
Without learning to know them, you see — 

And soon he untangled the tangle, 
And laughed out again in his glee. 

" I have it ! That Temperance Legion 

Will be only to happy to lend 
Their help to a puzzled old fellow 

Who's sorely in need of a friend. 

" I'll tell to the Legion the story — 
Indeed, I will tell them the whole — 



aifi Platform Pearls. 



Of the brave little laddies and lassies, 
And the Christmas the rumsellers stole. 

"About the dear babies I'll tell them, 
I know how their hearts will be stirred, 

I know how they'll rally to help me * 

As quick as I send them the word." 

So saying, old Santa touched quickly 

A curious kind of a spring, 
And the telephone bells on the Earth-land 

'Gan to merrily jingle and ring. 

And this is the way that I heard it, 

And why I have hurried to you — 
And now there is only one question. 

*' Just what can you and I do?'" 

— Alice M. Guernsey. 

162. A SONO OF HOPE. 

Children of yesterday, 

Heirs of to-morrow, 
What are you weaving — 

Labor and sorrow ? 
Look to your looms again ; 

Faster and faster 
Fly the gi'eat shuttles 

Prepared by the Master. 
Life's in the loom. 

Room for it — room ! 

Cliildren of yesterday. 

Heirs of to-morrow, 
Lighten the labor 

And sweeten the sorrow, 
Now — while the shuttles fly 

Faster and faster. 
Up and be at it — 

At work with the Master 
He stands at your loom. 

Room for Him — room ! 



Children of yesterday. 
Heirs of to-morrow, 
Look at your fabric 



Platform Pearls. 217 



Of labor and sorrow, 
Seamy and dark 

With despair and disaster, 
Turn it — and lo, 

The design of the Master ! 
The Lord's at the loom, 

Eoom for Him — room ! 

— Mary A. Lathbury. 



163. THE FARMED AN© HIS GUN.* 

CHAPTER I. 

" Great Scott, Maria, I do wish you would quit your talking 
to me about Prohibition. If men want drink they are going 
to have it, and all your Prohibition laws in the world ain't 
agoing to stop them from getting it." 

" But see here, Joshua, don't you know ? " 

' ' Yes, I do know considerable more about it than you 
women do. Why, only yesterday, that lightning rod man told 
me that he could get all the liquor he wanted to in Prohibition 
States. I am in favor of repealing all prohibitory laws so long 
as they are violated in that manner. Maria, the only way to 
deal with this question is to persuade the drinkers to quit — 
sign the pledge. Moral suasion will do more good in one day 
than prohibition that does not prohibit will do in a year. Then 
make the rum-sellers pay a high license. That's what I call 
practical temperance." 

CHAPTER n, 

" Maria, this 'ere stealing from my orchard has got to stop 
or by ginger there will be a few dead thieves around here 
pretty soon. I won't stand it any longer ! " 

' * Joshua, isn't there a pretty strong prohibitory law against 
stealing in this State ? " 

" Yes, sir, there is, and by George I am going to see it en- 
forced. I will get a first-class gun and hire some man to watch 
the thieves and shoot them on the spot ! " 

" Say, Joshua, what's the use of trying to enforce that law ? 
It is violated every day, and wouldn't it be better to repeal all 
laws against stealing until public sentiment was ready to en- 
force them ? " 



Copyrighted by the author. 



318 Platform Pearls. 



** Public sentiment be hanged ! That shows how much you 
women know about practical matters." 

" But, Joshua, you can't make men honest by law, you 
know, and the only way you can settle this thieving question 
is to persuade the thieves not to steal — get them to sign* the 
pledge, you know, and " 

' ' Maria, are you going crazy V " 

" No, Joshua, I'm getting to be a little ' practical,' don't you 
see. As I was saying, get the thieves to sign the pledge never 
to steal again, and make those who refuse, pay high license for 
stealing. That's what I call practical work.'' 

"Great Scott, Maria, what a dandy legislator you would 
make ! Under the magnificent schemes of your fertile brain, 
all great problems would be solved in two weeks. Now, I pro- 
pose to show you that the law against stealing can be enforced." 

CHAPTER in. 

" Well, Maria, I have been to town, bought a gun, have hired 
Bill Sykes to handle it and keep a sharp lookout for the thieves 
and bang away at the first one that shows his head over the 
fence." 

"Well, Joshua, you know that prohibition doesn't prohibit, 
and here you have gone and spent $20 or $30 for a gun that 
will do no good. If men want to steal they are going to, and 
all your prohibition laws in the world won't stop them." 

** For Heaven's sake, Maria, stop your confounded nonsense. 
Wait for a few weeks and we'll see if the thieves can be 
squelched or not." 

CHAPTER IV. 

'* Well, Joshua, six weeks have gone by and the tliieving 
goes on just the same. Now, what are you going to do about 
it?" 

" You just wait and see." 

' ' That's exactly what I have been doing. Prohibition doesn't 
prohibit, does it ? " 

" Not yet, but just you wait." 

" Is the gun all right ? " 

'• Yes, the gun is first-class." 

"Gun loaded?" 

"Yes, the gun has been properly loaded all the time." 

" And the stealing has been going right along ? " 



Pi^TFORM Pearls. 219 



*' Maria, jou are enough to drive any man crazy, and if you 
let up for a few minutes I will tell you why the thieving has 
not stopped. I have just discovered that Bill Sykes is one of 
the thieves." 

" Oh ! that's it, is it ! Well, now, since you are one of these 
non-pai'tisan temperance men, your next move will be to get 
up a petition addressed to Bill Sykes, begging him to do the 
work he was hired to do. Or, perhaps, you will organize a law 
and order league to force Bill Sykes to enforce the law ? " 

" Maria, I am not a natural born fool, and I want you to 
understand it once for all. I have discharged Bill Sykes and 
hired a man in his place who has no sympathy vnth thieving 
or thieves. Now, I expect that prohibition will prohibit." 

"Joshua, if you had the sense of a fresh water clam you 
would learn a lesson from this. You complain that prohibi- 
tion of the Uquor traffic does not prohibit and that the liquor 
men violate every law passed for the protection of society. 
Yet you and the rest of your party vote men into office like 
Bill Sykes, who are a part of a gang of law breakers. Instead 
of voting to discharge these men and put Prohibitionists into 
office, you reelect the same old crowd and then whine that 
"prohibition does not prohibit,' and 'you can not make men 
good by law,' and such cowardly nonsense. Joshua, vote to 
discharge forever all the Bill Sykes's and place the prohibition 
guns in the hands of Prohibitionists, who have no sympathy 
with rum-selling or rum-sellers." 

" Oh Lord, these women ! these women ! " 

— Tallie Morgan. 



164. A FUNERAL. TO-UAY. 

As I write a funeral procession is passing my door. It is the 
burial of a neighbor who has died of alcoholism, our national 
disease. He returned but a few weeks ago from the Keeley 
cure, strong in faith that he would never yield to the appetite 
again. He is the second man in this community to die of a 
debauch after this treatment and another of our citizens is "on 
a spree" now, who has received this so-called cure. The 
father of this last one is heart-broken. "For," says he, "I 
thought my boy was redeemed, but now there is no hope." 

As I see the man carried to his grave, a man who has occu- 
pied seats high in- the councils of the nation, I can but exclaim : 



220 Platform Pearls. 



" What a costly revenue we derive from the ' poison traffic ! ' " 
and ask, " O Lord, how long, how long will we continue to col- 
lect it? " A friend sitting by me says : "He deserves no sym- 
pathy ; he had every help to make life a success and he would 
not do it." * 

Ah, stop ! The Word says : "No drunkard can inherit the 
kingdom of heaven I " Do you say * ' no sympathy is due ? " 
Remember, he was poisoned in early manhood by the social 
glass, as I have heard him say. The chains of appetite have 
bound him tighter and tighter, and in the days of his ripest 
usefulness he is a victim of a traffic sustained by the votes of 
Cliristian men. The victim deserves the deepest sympathy ; 
let us condemn the system that creates him thus helpless in the 
clutches of disease. 

He will be laid to-day by the side of his Christian mother, 
whose greatest sorrow was that this " most brilliant of all my 
sons " was a drunkard. She went to her grave uttering a 
prayer for his salvation. And this is the way this man gov- 
ernment helps answer the prayers of Christian mothers. God 
hasten the day when mothers can vote as well as pray. 

By his side stand Christian brothers who have been devoted 
to his reformation, but when asked to vote a ticket that would 
send men to the Legislature who would prohibit the poison 
dens that beset this weaker brother's pathway will idly answer, 
" O there's no use ; Uquor will be sold anyway and I think it 
best to vote my party ticket once more." Ministers speak by 
the side of his coffin to-day who read the sad history in the fate 
of the dead, men who know the vast number falling all around 
them but who refuse to open their churches to voices that 
would sound the alarm in the presence of 103 saloons in this 
city of 15,000 souls. No gospel temperance meetings are held 
in the 27 churches that set on our thoroughfares, locked six 
days out of seven, given over to dust, must, and cobwebs. O 
no, somebody might tell the members of these churches, who 
are at ease in Zion, that they ought to carry their religion with 
their ballot on election day, and thus woimd the Christian in 
his pew, who is the greatest sinner at the ballot-box. So as 
this one falls into a drunkard's grave others fall into the pro- 
cession on the other end, to fill up the ceaseless gap and give 
these preachers " something to do." 

By the side of this coffin to-day business men march who 



Platform Pearls. 221 



think they '* can drink or let it alone," men whose faces show 
the "danger signal," who call me a "crank, a regular John 
Brown born before my time," when I ask them kindly, " Won't 
you read on this subject if I give you the books and papers ? " 
In the strength of their present will they smile and — go on a 
steady march to fill a drunkard's grave, believing as they say, 
"01 know when I have enough. I am not such a weakling 
as to over-drink." 

Beside this coffin to-day are the editors of our papers who 
write pathetically of this " ruined life," but who will not allow 
a line of prohibition sentiment to find its way into their col- 
umns lest it offend the liquor sellers who patronize their sheets. 
One of these editors, a brother in the church, writes tenderly 
of this man's death and publishes in one issue of his paper 
thirty-one notices of appHcation to sell liquor ! So the work 
goes on upheld by press, pulpit, and people. 

The wife sits clothed in the habiliments of mourning by the 
side of his coffin. In her youth and beauty she gave her life 
and happiness into the keeping of this brilliant young man ; 
they were just out of college, thoroughly equipped to build a 
Christian home. She saw the tempter at work ; all that love, 
gentleness, and devotion could do she had done. Her patience, 
persistence, and endurance were remarked by all, but when all 
hope had fled she was obliged to let him drift and die, away 
from her ministrations of tenderness and love. It was an un- 
equal contest. The whole legal power of State and Nation was 
pitted against her, for this government of males stays the hand 
of the outraged wife, takes no pity on her, but upholds the 
saloon-keeper in his deadly work. She is a widow to-day, the 
husband and home have been destroyed by the will and power 
of the government, for the sake of " revenue." 

Women flock to this funeral and drop tears of sympathy 
with this sister beside the bier, but they have no time to join 
the W. C. T. U., to read our papers, to fiU themselves with 
knowledge ; they have no time to educate their children in the 
physical effects of alcohol that they may go out in the face of 
the ever-present tempter forewarned and forearmed. O no, 
these women are too busy hunting " favors for progressive 
euchre "or " cinch" parties, to carry the gospel of teetotalism 
into palace and hovel alike, so their sons, a little later on, will 
go the same way ; some are well started now. 



Platform Pearls. 



Beautiful daughters weep for the absence and protecting 
care of a loving father. They are forced into the industrial 
world to compete with men bread-winners. In this way the 
industrial problem is made most serious. Women and children 
compete with and cut down the income of male wage-earners 
and the labor problem comes uppermost, only to be solved when 
we solve the liquor question. 

The train of evils following in the wake of this funeral, one 
of 125,000 each year, shows how the government protects (■?)the 
home, the wife and children, and the best interests of the 
society. 

The saloon can not be legahzed and the home protected 
imder the same flag. 

Men-voters, what are you going to do about it, and when 
are you going to do it? Will you begin next time you vote? 
Your answer will be in the size of the next Prohibition party 
vote. — Helen M. Gougar. 



165. THE AVAR CiOI>. 

"Who art thou, mighty one, hastening down the vista of 
the years, thou of such brilliant apparel, such clarion voice, 
such stately tread ? " 

"I am the War God,"' replies the gallant specter, " the king 
of all the kings of the earth." 

' ' How didst thou come into possession of so high a throne ? " 

' ' Because of my power. Since the birth of man, the reins 
of all the governments of the world have been placed in my 
hand. An absolute monarch have I ever been, my word the 
law^ of all nations. How oft, to indulge my fancy, have I or- 
dered my subjects to turn some majestic city into a gigantic 
bonfire, or to butcher a thousand children that their cries of 
anguish might add a new strain to the songs raised for my 
diversion." 

" Dost thou flatter thyself that thy subjects all serve thee 
from pure love? " 

"If praise be a sign of love, the affection all bear for me 
must indeed be intense. Poets have dedicated to me their 
noblest efforts. My achievements have inspired artists to 
create their masterpieces. Inventors have devised martial 
toys innumerable for my amusement. Philosophers have used 
their sagest arguments to prove me worthy of all the honor I 



Platform Peabls. 



receive. Kings without number have thrown their crowns at 
my feet and unmurmuring have surrendered to me their do- 
mains, while my special followers love me more than home or 
comfort, wife or child, mother or God, forsaking all to abide 
with me." 

" What recompense do thy faithful adherents receive ? " 

" A soldier's name," returns the War God with a compla- 
cent look, " a soldier's renown, coveted by all. Man forsakes 
every vocation that he may become a bearer of arms. He 
leaves the carpenter's bench that he may destroy beautiful 
buildings, the mill and the store that he may turn their fruit- 
age to a mighty conflagration. The physician hurries away 
from the dying that he may carry death into the ranks of the 
enemy. The lawyer closes his office, deaf to the appeals of the 
down-trodden, that within the army he may break every law 
of nature and of God. 

" Thus, eager for the conflict, man marches forth to the 
most inspiring music genius can produce, his path strewn with 
flowers by the loyal hands of mother, wife, and child. 

"But highest fame is his, no matter what his private life 
may have been — after he has fallen in death upon the field of 
strife. His name is ever after held in the most sacred rever- 
ence. Thus do I share my honors with my disciples ! " 

" Pray, what hast thou done to deserve such homage?" 

' ' I keep thousands of men in compulsory idleness, which 
leads to every dissipation. I keep children from their schools 
and mothers from their families to toil in the fields and facto- 
ries. I take food from the mouths of half starving peasants and 
clothes from their backs that the cost may be expended in 
constructing arsenals and forts for my amusement. 

"And what an impressive past has been mine ! I have un- 
furled my gory banner in every clime. I have turned peace to 
strife, plenty to famine, righteousness to unbridled crime, tem- 
perance to base revellings of King Alcohol, the heaven of civil 
prosperity to the hell of the battle-field, where every evil ap- 
peared in its most hideous form. 

"Because of petty misunderstandings among sovereigns, I 
have flooded earth with blood, I have sent millions in inex- 
pressible agony to untimely deaths, I have left them unburied 
in alien lands, I have reared asylums for those who have be- 
come crazed by dwelling on the horrors of my career. I have 



224 Platform Pearls. 



filled the sky with wails of widows and orphans, I have given 
the torch to myriads of once happy homes, I have destroyed 
countless works of art which no genius can ever reproduce, I 
have given to the flames great libraries — treasuries of the 
garnered wisdom of ages, now gone for aye — I have levelled 
cities as does the spring the hillocks of snow. I ^ave be- 
queathed to the sea unnumbered fleets with their human car- 
goes. And with one breath have I amiihilated whole races." 

" O thou terrible one, how is it thy reign has been so long ? " 

" Because mortals have desu-ed my rule." 

" Must this fair earth always be marred by thy bloody foot- 
steps ? "Wilt thou never surrender thy kingdom to another ? " 

' 'Aye, there is one more powerful than am I who waits to 
ascend my throne, whenever men decree. Peace is this sov- 
ereign. She comes from the olive plains that surround the 
throne of God. Her advent was announced by the angels who 
carolled the birthsong of the Prince of Peace. Her kingdom 
shall be an everlasting kingdom, Avhile mine shall vanish for 
aye." — Alice May Douglas. 



166. GREAT ADVANCE. 

The Prohibition Party has been for years a stubborn, right- 
eous minority. Said De Tocqueville : ' ' Stubborn minorities are 
the hope of republics." Especially true is this when a minority 
stands for conscience, for a truer, better manhood, for a nobler 
nationhood. President Seelye, some time before his death, de- 
clared that the Prohibition Party was the most hopeful sign 
above the political horizon. Charles Sumner was profoundly 
right when he said : "If you would save the nation you must 
sanctify it as well as fortify it." The Prohibition Party stands 
for political sanctification, a quickened and a quickening con- 
science in politics. 

What does the balance sheet of the Prohibition Party reveal ? 
If we have done nothing for the present generation or for pos- 
terity we should step aside. Posterity ? ' ' Why," said Patrick 
when urged to do something for posterity, "why should I do 
anything for posterity ? What has it done for me, I should 
like to know ? " We differ with our Emerald friend. 

A ship heavily laden, sailing in the Gulf Stream, was caught 
in the doldrums. Day after day the surface current was mov- 
ing against the ship's course, but not a breath of air stirred the 



Platform Pearls. fS5 



sails. The hearts of the sailors were failing them. It seemed 
useless to raise or shift a sail, or move the rudder. The vessel 
lay in a dead calm and the drift was contrary ; but after a time 
a reckoning was taken, and lo ! the ship had gained hun- 
dreds of miles. All the time the sailors were complaining and 
discouraged, while all the surface indications were that the ship 
was moving backward, the strong undercurrent of that won- 
derful, river in the ocean with its thousand hands had gripped 
hold of the bottom of the vessel and was pulling it toward the 
desired haven. 

In 1888 the Fisk campaign seemed to have left the Prohi- 
bition Party in the political doldrums. No pulling, no tugging 
of sails has appeared to help. There has been a world of lam- 
entations and croakings. The surface indications have been 
against us ; here and there a hand has dropped discouraged, 
and several of our best-known leaders have gone beyond the 
vale and the shadow. Some say that we have made no prog- 
ress ; some, that we have drifted backward. Let us take a 
reckoning and see how true it is that the gi'eat undercurrent 
that sets toward righteousness throughout the universe has all 
these years been carrying the party onward toward final vic- 
tory. To change the figure, we have been as one walking 
westward on an eastern-bound lightning express. While he is 
taking one step westward he is carried by the train a hundred 
steps eastward. Our party has been carried by a power that 
encompassed us, and is greater than we, onward and upward. 

Let us look at the credit side of the Prohibition Party bal- 
ance sheet. 

Note first the fact : The party has been a leading factor in 
getting conscience into politics. It is to-day, and has been for 
years, the grandest and most potent educational force, moral 
and political, in our nation. Its steadfastness for the right, its 
unflinching courage, its clearness of vision along moral polit- 
ical lines, its cheerful self-abnegation, and its endless sacrifices 
for conscientious convictions, are a leaven that is working irre- 
sistibly in the American meal-tub. 

Some one croaks, "But the Prohibition Party is not large."' 
A bit of leaven is not large, and yet it has in it that which leavens 
all the meal. But another exclaims, ' ' The party has not 
grown." The Golden Rule and the Ten Commandments are 
not a particle larger than when first uttered, and yet all 

15 



22<3 Platform Pearls. 



tlirough the ages they have been Hfting the world higher and 
higher, and never so effectively as to-day. The test is not size, 
but what that size contains. God chooses the apparently Uttle 
things, weak things of the world, to work His wonders and 
confound the mighty. 

Ten years ago politics stood for gi'eed. " To the victors be- 
long the spoils," "All is fair in politics," " Politics is politics," 
Avere common maxims that ruled ; and the name politician was 
a synonym for ti'ickster from Maine to the Golden Gate and 
from the Lakes to the Gulf. To the old party politicians the 
Ten Commandments and the Golden Rule were iridescent 
dreams. Against all this the Prohibition Party has been an 
organized, untiring, immovable protest. Every year the 
county and state Prohibition Party platforms and nominations 
were the voice of conscience, of a higher, ti'uer political ideal ; 
"a still small voice " they may have been, but they were a 
voice that has been heard from one end of the country to the 
other, heard and at last somewhat heeded. The day-dawn of 
cleaner, truer politics in America is beginning to be recognized 
everywhere. 

Nor will our party have done its perfect work until the 
most sacred spot to the people in all this land will be the ballot- 
box ; until a dishonest act there, corruption there, will be rec- 
ognized as the greatest possible crime against the Repubhc. 
To fool, to cheat at the ballot-box is treason, and such treason 
must be made unspeakably odious. During the past decade 
the political conscience of the American people has grown 
visibly many a cubit. 

Prior to ten years ago you will look in vain in the records 
of the Presbyterian General Assembly for an utterance Uke the 
following : 

"No political party has the right to expect the support of Christian men 
so long as that party stands committed to the license policy, or refuses to put 
itself on record against the saloon." 

Prior to 1884, find, if you can, anything like the following 
in the minutes of the Methodist General Conference : 

" We do record our deliberate judgment that no political party has a right to 
expect, nor ought it to receive, the support of Christian men so long as it stands 
committed to the License policy, or refuses to put itself on record in an attitude 
of open hostility to the saloon." 

These are but typical of the recent utterances of about all 



Platform Pearls. 227 



of the churches. And the great Christian Endeavor Associa- 
tion, under the guidance of that master leader, John G. Woolley, 
is not far in the rear. By and by it will lead. 

But, does some one say, what do these resolutions and say- 
ings amount to if they do not take the form of action ? 

Get intelligent, conscientious men to think right and keep 
them at it, and they are bound by the irresistible laws of the 
mind and heart eventually to act right. The Prohibitionists 
have gained a stupendous victory in compelling the churches 
to think right. 

The church is slowly but surely leading its membership up 
to the high level of its resolutions. This is one point we must 
insist upon : the ending of the inconsistency between church 
resolutions and membership action. There must be harmony 
between the head, heart, feet, and hands of the church. A 
captain in the old-fashioned militia once offered this toast : 
"Here is to the militia, invincible in peace, invisible in war." 
That has been the church in its fight with the liquor traffic 
"invincible in synods and in conferences ; invisible on election 
days." That must end. It is our business to so plan and so 
fight that it will be impossible fortius inconsistency to continue. 

Again, what changes are being wrought in almost every 
direction by a recognition on the part of many business men of 
the facts Prohibitionists have been gathering and publishing. 
To-day, it is not safe anywhere for a young man to seek em- 
ployment with the smell of liquor on his breath. I have gone 
through large restaurants in Chicago, and Boston, and New 
York at lunch time, and have not seen a bottle at one plate in 
twenty. Ten years ago, in these same restaurants, the bottle on 
an average was at every other plate. Last December the Chi- 
cago and Alton Railroad published Rule 75, which reads : 

"Any conductor, trainsman, engineer, fireman, switchman, or other em- 
ployee who is known to use intoxicating liquors will be promptly and perma- 
nently discharged." 

Orders have been issued by almost all of the leading rail- 
roads of the country forbidding the sale of liquors at railroad 
restaurants and forbidding their employees to go inside of a 
saloon, many of them, with the Chicago and Alton Railroad, 
insisting upon absolute abstinence. The significance of these 
weighty facts is that over a million men are employed on the 
railroads, and that this recognition is a commercial one. The 



SS8 Platform Pearls. 



enlightened pocket-book has become a factor in our reform in 
America in the closing decade of the nineteenth centm-y. 
When fully enlisted it wiU become irresistible. 

He who can not see in such triumphs as these great en- 
couragement must be fatally blind. The Prohibition Party, 
beyond any other educational agency, beyond all others com- 
bined, is to be credited with these changes. It forced agitation, 
and agitation is a tremendous educational power. 

— Rev, Dr. I. K. Funk. 



167. SAINT MONACEIiliA'S LAI^BS. 

Within the ancient Powysland they call 
The timid hares that swiftly run for life 
Wyn Melangell. "Monacella's lambs," 
And tell of that fair Saint this legend strange. 

When Christ the Lord, six centuries was dead, 

Brochwel, the Prince, aroused himself one morn 

While yet the sun was early in the sky. 

And rolling mists hung o'er the mountain side. 

•' This day," he cried, "with merry horn and hounds. 

We'll hunt the hare in blythesome Powysland." 

And with the Prince rode chieftains stern and true, 

And lovely ladies, with dark glancing eyes — 

Eyes that for pity should be moist to tears. 

But now were swift to look on pain and death. 

And as the morning grew apace, the sun 

Shone in bright splendor, and burned up the mist, 

And bathed the hills and vales in radiant light. 

The joyful baying of the deep-mouthed hounds 

Proclaimed that they at last had found the hare. 

But swiftly as they ran, still faster ran 

The panting creature flying for its life. 

Across the plain it fled, and close behind 

The eager dogs, the courtiers, and the Prince, 

Who far outstripped his gallant retinue. 

And felt the inspiration of the chase 

Thrill through his being to its inmost core. 

But the swift hare, thus doomed to cruel death. 

Found refuge in a small and thorny wood, 

Scarce larger than a thicket in its size. 



Platform Pearls. 229 



No horseman e'er could find a path therein, 
And Brochwel leapt from off his gallant steed 
And forced a passage through the branching trees 
Until he reached an open space, wherein 
A lovely lady, clothed all in white, 
Knelt on the green sward, and with clasped hands, 
Prayed Heaven for mercy on a wicked world. 
The hare had found a harbor of defense. 
And, nestled 'neath the white fold of her robe, 
Turned to the dogs an aspect undismayed. 

The Prince was startled by this vision fair, 

Emblem of pity in a ruthless world ; 

But soon the master passion took its way. 

With angry voice, and gesture fierce, he urged 

The dogs to seize the hare — which peaceful lay 

Half -covered by the white robe's falling fold. 

The hounds, more reverent than the angry Prince, 

Shrank ever further from the kneeling maid. 

Nor could the huntsman, who had joined the Prince, 

Blow on his horn a single forward note. 

But spellbound, gazed upon the white-robed form. 

Then heavenly awe fell on the Prince's heart, 

And sweet compassion entered in his soul ; 

No more he sought the timid hare to slay, 

But bowed his head before the Saint who thus 

Could tame the fierceness both of man and brute. 

And begged to know the secret of her power. 

Strange was the story the white lady told 

To listening Brochwel, Prince of Powysland ; 

For she, whom we Saint Monacella call, 

The hermit fair, Melangell then was named — 

Melangell, daughter of an Irish King. 

She fled her father's court that she might 'scape 

A loveless union with a noble fierce, 

And in this lonely place her spotless life 

To Chastity and Pity she had given. 

Here fed but by the kindly fruits of earth. 

Her thirst assuaged by the water brooks. 

Her home a welcome refuge had become 

For the bright creatures thoughtless man destroys. 

The birds sang sweetly round her lonely bower 



230 Platform Pearls. 



Their hymns to Mercy, and to Mercy's God. 
The wild hares gambolled tamely round her knee, 
And every dumb thing here Hved out its day, 
Nor dreamed of torture or the deadly knife. 

Brochwel, the Prince, came of a warrior tribe, ♦ 
His days to battle and to chase had given ; 
Yet here he saw a vision beautiful 
Of a white world where slaughter had no place. 
Where Holiness and Mercy fair had met, 
Where Contemplation had not scorned to throw 
A shield protecting e'en the humblest things 
To which the heavens had given the gift of Ufe. 
So, tho his hands were red with human blood — 
A warrior and a hunter from his birth — 
Brochwel a gift unto Melangell made, 
A tract of land to be for her and God ; 
A Place of Holiness, where hunted things. 
Whether of human kind, or of the brute, 
Should find their safety and might rest secure. 
Nor fear the hunter's horn nor butcher's knife. 
Nor the wild vengeance that man wreaks on man. 

There Monacella lived her lonely life. 

And succor gave to all that fled to her. 

Yea, from her girlhood to her dying day, 

When old and feeble she gave up her breath — 

Through those long years her hermitage became 

A picture of the Paradise of God — 

A place of peace from war and bloodshed free, 

A symbol of the future, when the world 

Shall learn the Message of the Carpenter, 

And Love shall rule in Earth and Heaven alike. 

— William C. A. Axon. 

168 THE VOICE OF A STAR. 

Dark night her tent once more unfurled, on Power's first-cen- 
tury home. 

Upon the marble heart of the world — the great, grand city of 
Rome. 

And hushed at last were the chariot- tires, and still the sandalled 
feet, 

And dimmed the i)alace Avindovv-fires, on many a noble street ; 



Platform Pearls. 231 



And to a roof a maiden came, with eyes as angels love, 
And looked up at the spheres of flame that softly gleamed 
above. 

She gazed at them with a misty eye, and spoke, in accents sad: 
" O tell me, gold-birds of the sky ! if ever a voice you had, 
Is Justice dull from a palsy-stroke, and deaf, as well as blind ? 
Else why must e'er the heaviest yoke be placed on woman 

kind? 
Why should the solace of man's heart be oft his meanest slave ? 
Why is her life e'er torn apart, by those she has toiled to save ? 

"Why should the mold of the human race be crushed and 

thrown away, 
Whenever it lacks the outw^ard grace that woos the stronger 

clay? 
Why must the mothers of men be bought and sold like beasts 

that die? 
Why are they scourged for little or nought, and barred of all 

reply ? 
Why are we women of Rome e'er told that we should happy 

be. 
Because not kept like flocks in fold, as those across the sea ? 

" Have we no heart? Have we no mind? Must not our con- 
science speak? 

Say, must our souls be dumb or blind, because our hands are 
weak ? 

Must we be ever the laughing-stock of man's fond, fickle heart? 

Were we but born for Fate to mock — to play a menial part? 

Must all our triumphs be a lie — our joys in fetters clad ? 

O tell me, gold-birds of the sky — if ever a voice you had ! " 

Then from the East, a new, bright star flashed to her flashing 

eye, 
And seemed to speak to her from afar, with soft and kind reply : 
"Why weep, fair maid, upon the eve of victory's coming morn ? 
It is o'er strange, for one to grieve, whose champion's to be 

born ! 
To-morrow, a new king appears, with dimpled, mighty hand. 
And He shall rule a million years, o'er many a kingly land. 

' ' His mother a queen the world will see, whose reign doth e'er 
endure : 



232 Platform Pearls. 



All women shall his sisters be, whose ways are just and pure ; 
A woman's fault shall not be her death, by men or angels seen; 
Repentance, and His God-strewn breath, shall grandly step 

between. 
A woman's fame, by merit won, shall add to her queenly ^grace. 
And higher, as the years march on, shall be her destined place. 

' ' And four great words the world shall see, enwoven with 

man's Uf e : 
Mother and sister two shall be — and two be daughter and wife. 
It shall be felt that she whose care the lamp of thrift makes 

burn, 
Can take with him an equal share of all their Uves may earn ; 
That she whose soft and healing hand can soothe, with blessing 

bright, 
Is no less great, and true, and grand, than he who leads the 

fight." 

Like one who through the woods may grope tiU light comes to 

his eyes. 
The maiden thrilled with new-born hope, and seized the glad 

surprise ; 
The voice of the star she understood ; its glorious meaning 

knew ; 
And all her dreams of woman's good, seemed likely to come 

true. 
And when against the twilight gray was brightened by the 

morn. 
Within a manger far away, the infant Christ was born. 

— Will Carleton, in Ladies' Home Journal. 



169. A WHITE HEAT. 

Not long since we heard a very disappointing sermon on an 
important theme. It contained much religious truth, but ifc 
was f earf uUy cold. It was the Gospel frozen, and fed out with 
a teaspoon. 

Much of the " temperance " talk of the day is like that ser- 
mon. The speaker, or the ^vriter, is really " opposed to intem- 
perance " — of course. He is sorry for the drunkard, and would 
like to help him. He sees that the saloon-keeper is very 
wicked, and the saloon very dreadful. He wishes there were 
no saloons — at least not so many. If he had his way, the sa- 
loons would be abolished. But as he can not have his wav, he 



Platform Pearls. 233 



will "do the next best thing " — let them stay. He will not go 
to extremes. He will not be violent or excitable. He will do 
what everybody will agree to, and he hopes that in ' ' the long 
result of time " this foul blot will be removed from our civili- 
zation. He can not see why any one should object to such a 
proper and discreet utterance, and asks, " What would you 
have more ? " 

Grood sir, we would have fire. You will never do anything 
by handling the cold iron of public opinion in that style. Put 
it in the fire of intense conviction, burning pity for the tempted 
and the broken-hearted, and hot indignation at the destroyer ! 
Then when you strike, the sparks will fly, and you can shape 
that public opinion into a sword that will smite the accursed 
saloon, hip and thigh, with unsparing slaughter. The lack of 
fire is what we object to. 

A man walking across a bridge sees a boy struggling in the 
water. ** Ah," he exclaims, " I pity that boy ! It's a dreadful 
thing to be drowned. It will be very sad for that boy's father 
and mother. I should sympathize with all wise and well-di- 
rected efforts to save that boy." Now, where is the fault in 
these excellent remarks ? Another man rushes up in hot haste 
and prepares to plunge in, with blazing eyes fixed on the strug- 
gling boy. The first man says, severely: "Sir, this is very 
undignified and impolite behavior. You almost knocked me 
down ; and you have flung your coat and boots into that dirty 
pool. Sir, I felt great sympathy for that boy before you ap- 
peared, but your violent measures have destroyed all my 
interest, and now I don't care what becomes of him." 

If the rescuer gives a hot answer, can you blame him 
very much? At least, when he struggles ashore with the 
rescued boy in his arms, you will forgive him. 

That has been the way with reformers in all ages. Gar- 
rison's Liberator used to make Beacon street gentlemen mad 
to the lynching point. Wendell Phillips's polished sarcasm 
and invective cut so deep that many a time the police had 
to see him home. Doubtless these men were sometimes too 
severe, yet the world does not now remember that they hurt 
the feelings of some people, but only that they shook slavery 
down. How did Sheridan turn the tide of battle at Cedar 
Creek just thirty years ago? In his own story of the vie- 



234 Platform Peabls. 



toiy he speaks over and over of the worth of enthusiasm. 
He says : 

" I already knew that even in the ordinary condition of mind, enthusiasm is 
a potent element with soldiers ; but what I saw that day convinced me that if it 
can be excited from a state of despondency, its power is almost irresistible.*' 

Flashing past the crowd of fugitives, waving his hat, shout- 
ing, "Face the other way, boys, face the other way!" one 
man all ablaze set an army on fire. 

Oh, for that sacred fire of enthusiasm in the temperance 
cause now ! Oh, that the leaders of thought would but give 
utterance in ringing tones to the feehng burning in the hearts 
of millions, instead of laboriously hushing it down ! Away 
with " critical coldness " at such a time ! 

During the late war, at evening roll-call, a captain said to 
his company : " Soldiers, I am ordered to detail ten men to a 
very dangerous service, but of the greatest importance to the 
army in the coming battle. I have not the heart to pick the 
men, for the chances are against their ever coming back. But 
if there are ten men in the company who will volunteer for 
this service, they may step two paces to the front." As the 
captain ceased speaking, that whole line stepped two paces for- 
ward, and stood there with every man in place, and ranks as 
even as before. The captain's eyes were dim, and his voice 
faltered as he said : ' ' Soldiers, I thank you ; I am proud to 
be captain of such a company." That is what we want 
now, brave hearts and even ranks, moving forward all to- 
gether for the right. 

Let every man who believes Prohibition to be the duty 
of the hour, act with prompt decision for himself, and he 
will be astonished to find how many will step forward with 
him. Every man who decides helps some other to decide. 
Let all who believe in Prohibition be alive, awake, and speak, 
act, and vote with high resolve and burning enthusiasm for the 
New Emancipation of Humanity ! Then it will come ! 

— Rev. James C. Fernald. 



170. TTOOTAIV'S HOUR. 

Between the past and the future hangs 
A gate that so Hghtly clings, 

It seems a breath might put it ajar, 
Yet it never stirs, or swings ; 



Platform Pearls. 235 



But under the arches in silence waits 
A coming hand with a touch of fate. 

Beyond the gate in the distance glows 

A splendor serene and high, 
A fairer glory than touches yet 

Our vision of sea and sky ; 
And mellow and clear it softly clings 
To the gateway's edge like a golden fringe. 

Over the arches a perfume falls 
Like breath from the hills of balm, 

And melody sweeps to a world in pain, 
As notes from an angel psalm ; 

The song rings out, like a prophet's cry. 

And tells of a day that is drawing nigh. 

Beyond the portal that never swings 

Is waiting the age of gold, 
The dawn of peace on the day of God, 

By poet and seer foretold ; 
Who holds the key to the lofty gate ? 
Where lingers the hand with the touch of fate ? 

'Tis centuries now since the holy star 

Was aflame over Bethlehem, 
And centuries old is the mighty song 

Of " Peace and good-will to men," 
The wise men came when Christ was born. 

And wise men came when he died, 
And wise men wandered from Olivet 

To preach of the Crucified. 

But darkly the shadows are lying yet 

On the world where the cross of Christ was set. 

Why lingers the hope of the world so long 

After the sweep of the angel song? 

Why waits the dawn that shall surely bring 

The reign of glory, when Christ is king ? 

While pitiful cry 

And wrathful sigh 
Yet enter the ear of the Lord on high. 

Ah ! wise men ruling in church and state, 
Where did vou miss it — the Master's will ? 



Flatfokm Pearls. 



His glory is waiting to flood the earth, 

His love is ready all hearts to thrill. 

Well may you question 

Your souls in fear, 
What hinders the day 
That should be here ? 
Who holds the key, since the wise men stand 
Before the portals with empty hand ? 

Behold a strong and gentle host ! 

They gather from every clime and coast, 

With steady faith and a purpose high, 

And hearts united by holy tie ; 

Who runneth may read — 'tis woman's hour. 

The lips, long silent, are clothed with power ! 

The heart of the world 
Has come abroad, 

Its cry has entered 
The ear of God, 
The age of might grows old and late, 
When woman stands at the mystic gate. 

The wise men, toiling the world to win, 
Have sought the prisoner and set him free ; 

Have drenched the valleys of earth with blood, 
In giving to slaves their liberty. 

They have lifted the serf to a noble place. 

And wrought for half of the human race. 
But the golden day 
For which they pray 

Shall never davm upon slave or throne, 

'Till woman cometh unto her own. 

Slie has given the world the dew of tears, 

The nations are born in her cry of pain — 
The nations, that after the weary years 
Lie at her feet, the strong ones slain. 
'Twas here they missed it — the Master's will — 
And hindered the promise he shall fulfill, 
But lo ! at the arch of the mystic gate 
Is woman's hand with the touch of fate. 

— Mary T. Lathrap. 



Platform Pearls. 237 



171. SIIiENCE IN THE CHUKCHES.* 

They say we must keep party politics out of the pulpit. It 
is too late ; it is there. 

The double-headed party treason by which the saloon wins 
as a Democrat and ' ' holds over " as a Republican, year after 
year, and that works its alternating shift, debauching the pub- 
lic service, deflowering the public virtue, degrading the public 
justice, debasing the ballot, defeating the church, has formed 
a kind of a pulpit " trust," and regulates the output of the pul- 
pit and the religious press according to its own damnable will, 
shuts one, opens another on half time, and has well-nigh buried 
fearless, independent patriotism in the very ministry and put a 
gravestone over it with the scoffer's epitaph, "The Rest is 
Silence." 

And when some brave man holds out against it, refusing to 
be bought or scared or sold, it slits his ears, breaks his joints, 
nails him to the cross of failure, and starves his wife and chil- 
dren before his eyes. Do not be angry with me. What I say is 
of no importance, unless it is true. But I tell you that the 
American pulpit is well-nigh swamped with subservient, sal- 
aried, Simonaical silence — which is the most virulent and 
deadly form of party politics. 

The spoils treason of the old parties is but the other bank of 
the dumb treason of the pulpit and, by means of their parallel 
and interoperative disloyalty to church and state alike, between 
them flows the putrid river of American politics, and one bank 
of a stream can not rebuke the other for causing the channel 
to deepen and hold on its way. 

Peter no more denied Jesus when he swore he did not know 
Him, than when he warmed himself in craven acquiescence 
at the fires of the insulters of his Lord. 

We can not, if we would, exclude politics from the pulpit, 
but the Prohibition Party offers it a kind of politics that will 
honor it and help on the kingdom. — John G. WoolJey. 



172. A NATION EXAIiTED. t 

Tell me, O Voice of the Ages, what power exalteth a nation ? 
Is it the conquest of arms — the force of victorious battle ? 



*From an address at National Prohibition Park, N. Y., July 4, 1896. 
t Read by the author at the ratification banquet, Prohibition Park, N. Y, 
July 4, 1896. 



Platform Pearls. 



Swift conies the answer, ' ' Not so ; such victory ever debaseth ; 
France was but wayward and weak with all of Napoleon's 

triumphs. 
Ruins of Rome still proclaim, * All martial success is a shadow, 
Degrading the soul of the nation; ' and Wisdom hath said that 

greater * 

Is he who ruleth his spirit than he who taketh a city. 
Never was nation exalted by prowess in carnage and warfare. " 

Tell me, since war so degrades, is it Wealth that exalteth a 
nation ? 

Answering come the words : . " Neither gold nor silver ennobles; 

Know that in every land with lofty and pure aspirations 

The treasure of all the Orient would not suffice for content- 
ment." 

Voice of the Ages, once more : is the honor and glory of 
nations 

In lineage, pedigree, rank, such as lords of the old time boasted, 

Ancestry, in whose veins the bluest of blood is mingled? 

' ' Seldom from stately mansion has come the song that up- 
Hfteth, 

The music that stirs the soul — the painting whose magical 
colors 

Seem blended with Heaven's rare light, interwoven with heart- 
felt meaning. 

From the peasant's cottage, more oft than from palace or 
throne comes the message 

Waking the world to gladness, — the glory and pride of a 
nation. " 

Then, O Voice of the Ages, declare you that Genius exalteth? 

That culture is more to be sought than riches or social distinc- 
tion? 

" More to be sought ; yet culture, like that of Greece, may be 
soulless, 

Intellect void of God is intellect wasted, behttled." 

What then, O Voice of the Ages, is Creed the hope of the na- 
tions ? 
Dogma against unbelief, — devotion to churchly professions? 
" Not by its creed alone can a nation be truly exalted, 



Platform Pearls. 239 



The greater devotion to form, the less to the substance within 

it. 
Bigotry hath not fled since the horrors of Spain's Inquisition, 
Never can faith be increased by narrow and rigid coercion. 

Surely it must be Liberty, then, that exalteth a nation. 

Have I not guessed it at last, O puzzling Voice of the Ages ? 

Can we in Freedom's land find a nation truly exalted ? 

Answering come reluctant the words, "Thou art still unsuc- 
cesful. 

Lighted is Liberty's torch, but if not from the stars heaven- 
lustrous, 

The light is a will o' the wisp, that leadeth astray the pilgrim. 

So is it in this land where the Goddess of Liberty dweileth. 

Surely could she but know of the death and destruction about 
her, 

Caused by the traffic in rum, where 'personal liberty' tri- 
umphs, 

Liberty, casting away her torch in despair and horror, 

Would vanish forevermore and leave the land to its darkness. 

— Listen, O questioning one : There is naught that exalteth a 
nation 

Save Righteousness ; this alone bringeth glory and honor 
eternal." 

Hushed is the Voice of the Past ; but I see in the Future's hori- 
zon 

Dawning the day of hope ; and approaching, are three fair 
spirits, 

Faces aglow with light, and these words on their garb inter- 
woven, — 

" For God, Home, and Country ; " " For Christ and the Church ;" 
" God's word and works for the many." 

Already their presence illumines tlie ground that before was 
o'ershadowed : 

All welcome the Ribbon of White, with Chautauqua and Chris- 
tian Endeavor ! 

List : 'tis the Voice of the Future, the words of these Spirits of 
Progress : 

" Prohibitionists, would you share in the glorious time that i.s 
coming ? 



240 Platform Pearls. 



Quit you like men ; be strong ; for so shall you join in the 

triumph. 
Sternly excluding forever all jealousy, strife, and injustice, 
We pledge our faith and our friendship alone to the manly and 

noble." 

Fades from my sight the vision. Around me are those who 

are worthy — 
Worthy the proffered aid of these loftiest Spirits of Progress. 
Grieve not for these who desert ; we shall find them retracing 

their footsteps, — 
Else 'tis the purging away of the dross that the gold can well 

banish. 

Onward, then, men of the grandest reform that the world has 
yet witnessed ! 

Righteousness ever your watchword, and faith in the mandate 
eternal ; 

Faith — and the knowledge that through this standard, up- 
borne 'mid the conflict 

By hands like those you have chosen, the nation will be exalted. 

— Lilian M. Heath. 



TOPICAL INDEX. 



Ballot. No. 

Back to his Chrysalis 23 

Brand of Cain 26 

Coming Era 27 

Exactly of a Size 35 

First Reform 83 

Ground out by a Crank 134 

House that Sam Built 7 

"I'veGotlt!" 65 

Just the Same 142 

Level of Civilization 101 

Not a Mushroom Party 52 

On Certain Adjectives 127 

Prohibition's Bugle Call 78 

Question for Patriots 12 

Quest Magnificent 21 

Red Niagara 32 

Reformer, The 43 

Sermon in a Saw -Mill 38 

Shall Mothers Vote ? 126 

Song of the Hour 2 

Three Views of a Whisky Bottle.. 34 

Unfortunate Trellis 44 

Voting vs. Resolving 47 

Christian Endeavor. 
Christian Endeavorer's Position . . 60 

Dreaming and Waking 51 

" Feed My Sheep" 49 

Flower Mission 104 

Great Advance 166 

Master Calleth, The 114 

Unfortunate Trellis 44 

Vessel in Danger 36 

Victor, The 19 

Church Voter. 

American Desert 16 

Brand of Cain 26 

Christian Endeavorer's Position . , 60 

Conscience Crystallized 153 

Deacon Beery's Protest 72 

Exactly of a Size 35 

Four Million " Christian " Murder- 
ers 139 

Funeral To-day 164 

Great Advance 166 

Greatest Missionary Need 102 

Ground out by a Crank 134 

House that Sam Built 7 

Midnight Scenes of a Great City. . 1^ 

On a Lehigh Valley Train , . 157 

One Beauty of Civilization 129 

Our Beneficent License Laws 41 

Practise vs. Professions 91 

Remedy Within Reach 130 

Sermon in a Saw-Mill 38 

Short Story 141 

16 



No. 

Silence in the Churches 171 

Three Views of a Whisky Bottle. , 34 

Tramp's Views, A 31 

Twisting and Turning 46 

Unfortunate Trellis 44 

Voting vs. Resolving 47 

What do You Care ? 71 

Which are You? £2 

Whisky Deacon 84 

Compromise. 

Back to His Chrysalis 23 

Conscience Crystallized 153 

Deacon's Match 56 

Don't Sell Your Conscience 10 

" Dorlesky's Errents" 74 

Forces of Battle 42 

Mainspring of Triumph 8 

On a Lehigh Valley Train 157 

Our Beneficent License Laws 41 

Politician's Wail 120 

Present Crisis 81 

Sense vs. License 18 

Twisting and Turning 46 

Cowardice. 

Don't Sell your Conscience 10 

" Dorlesky's Errents " 74 

Effect of Moral Cowardice 90 

Farmer and His Gun 163 

Indictment 39 

Mainspring of Triumph 8 

Present Crisis 81 

Reformer, The 43 

Shovel Out 33 

Weakness of Local Option 133 

Education. 

Anti-Suffragist's Lament 25 

Certainty of Progress 20 

Mainsprmg of Triumph 8 

Patriot's Ally 106 

Self -Government 85 

Temperance Education Law 107 

Voice of Science 118 

Wanted— a Boy 

Worried about Katherine 

Enthusiasm. 

Big Four 140 

Gen. Neal Dow 87 

Land of Prohibition 66 

Mainspring of Triumph 8 

Prohibition's Bugle Call 78 

Puzzled Santa Claus 161 

Quest Magnificent 21 

Run up the Flag 138 

Song of Hope 162 

Song of the Hour 2 



243 



Topical Index. 



No 

Vessel in Danger 36 

White Heat 59 

Finance. 

Conscience Crystallized 153 

Does it Pay ? 94 

Great Problem 112 

Liquor and ^yages 96 

Queer, Isn't it 55 

Red Niagara 32 

What will the Farmer Do? 116 

Home. 

Appeal for the Home 132 

Baby Shoes 15 

Case of " Personal Liberty " 28 

Cost of a License 13 

Difference, The 103 

'• Dorlesky's Errents" 74 

Drink 63 

Funeral To-day 164 

Glorious Monument 62 

Lead the Bov 152 

Shall Mothers Tote ? 126 

Stamp it Out 4 

Supreme Curse 69 

Terrors of Evicrion 109 

Wanted — a Boy 159 

What do You Care ? 71 

Worried About Katheriue 59 

iNTEMPrEANCE. 

American Desert 16 

Baby Shoes 15 

Boundary Post 57 

Case of " Personal Liberty " 28 

Coming Era 27 

Cost of a License 13 

Drink 63 

Glorious Monument 62 

Jug an' Me an' Jim, The 17 

Letter Exercise 148 

Moaning of the Bar 9 

On Certain Adjectives 127 

Quest Magnificent 21 

Six Boys. 48 

Song of the Sot 11 

That's the Question 135 

Three Views of a Whisky Bottle. . 34 
Tramp's Views, A 31 

Justice. 

Give them Justice 88 

Labor. 

Does it Pay ? 94 

First Reform 83 

Liquor and Wages 91 

What will the Farmer Do ? 166 

LiBEBTT. 

Back to His Chrysalis 23 

Case of ' ' Personal Liberty. " 28 

Compulsory Morality 119 

Faith and Liberty 37 

First Duty of Citizens 40 

Liberty 145 

Mainspring of Triumph 8 

*•' Personal Liberty "' Cry 80 



No. 

Question for Patriots 12 

Red Niagara 32 

Song of the Hour 2 

Temperance Revolution 30 

Unfortunate Trellis 44 

White Ribbon Banner 

License. 

American Desert *. . . 16 

Cost of a License 13 

Deacon Beery's Protest 72 

Deacon's Match 56 

Getting at the Root 150 

Glorious Monument 62 

Letter Exercise 148 

Mussulman's View 6 

Our Beneficent License Laws 41 

Red Niagara 32 

Run up the Flag 13H 

Sense vs. License 18 

Sermon in a Saw-mill 38 

Stamp it Out 4 

Local Option. 

New Song of Sixpence 110 

Tramp's Views, A 31 

Weakness of Local Option 133 

Manhood. 

Back to His Chrysalis 23 

Battle Rally 53 

Calf Path 158 

Christian Endeavorer's Position . . 60 

Curtain Lecture 82 

Cut Down the Tree 77 

Don't Sell Your Conscience 10 

" Dorlesky's Errents" 74 

Effect of Moral Cowardice 90 

Fanatic, A 61 

Farmer and His Gun 163 

Gen. Neal Dow 87 

Glorious Monument 62 

Ground Out by a Crank 134 

"I've Got It I" 65 

Mainspring of Triumph 8 

Moral Warfare 137 

On a Lehigh Valley Train 157 

One Beauty of Civilization 129 

Present Crisis 81 

Prohibition's Bugle Call 78 

Quest Magnificent 21 

Red Niagara 32 

Reformer, The 43 

Run up the Flag 138 

Self-Government 85 

Shovel Out 83 

Song of Martyrdom 76 

Song of the Hour 2 

Stand Firm 64 

Unfortunate Trellis 44 

Wanted — True Men 136 

Weakness of Local Option 133 

What Do You Care ? 71 

Which are You ? 92 

Woman's Answer, A 143 

Moral Suasion. 

Compulsory Morality 119 

Moral Suasion Not Sufficient 58 



Topical Index. 



243 



No. 

Only Conclusion 22 

Vessel in Danger 36 

Non-Paktisanship. 

Politician's Wail 120 

Eecord of Non-Partisanship 160 

Supreme Curse 69 

Oratory. 

Big Four 140 

Expression 1 

Patriotism. 

Columbia 29 

Cut Down the Tree 7? 

Gen. Neal Dow 87 

Moral Warfare 

Our Watchword — L'niou ! 14 

People's Voice, A 154 

Question for Patriots 12 

Eun Up the Flag 138 

Self-Government 85 

Song of the Hour 2 

Temperance Eevolution 30 

Tower of Shame 124 

Unfortunate Trellis 44 

Wanted — True Men 136 

Warning 89 

WMte-Eibhon Banner 156 

Progress. 

Anti-Suffragist's Lament 25 

Back to His Chrysalis 23 

Calf Path 1.58 

Certainty of Progress 20 

Columbia 29 

Coming Era 27 

Forces of Battle 42 

Fundamental Eef orm 98 

Great Advance 166 

Land of Prohibition 66 

Nation Exalted, A 172 

Only Conclusion 22 

Our Watchword— Union ! 14 

Present Crisis 81 

Prohibition's Bugle Call 78 

Eeformer, The. 43 

Self-Government 85 

Song of Hope 162 

Song of the Hour 2 

Temperance Eevolution ,30 

To-morrow 95 

Vessel in Danger 36 

Vot der Voomans Haf Ton 24 

Wanted— a Boy 159 

Warning 89 

What is Faith ? 105 

White-Eibbon Banner 156 

Total Abstinexci:. 

Cut Down the Tree 77 

Glorious Monument 62 

Gold of Eight Habits 5 

If 75 

Liquor and Wages 96 

Moaning of the Bar 9 

Not from My Bottle " 3 

Only Conclusion .'.'.' 22 



No. 

Eun up the Flag 138 

Six Boys 48 

Temperance Army 121 

Temperance Eevolution 30 

Voter's Eesponsibilitt. 

Brand of Cain 26 

Case of " Personal Liberty " 28 

Columbia 29 

Core of the Eum Question 86 

Cost of a License. 7 13 

Father's Woe, A 155 

First Duty of Citizens 40 

Funeral To-day 164 

House that Sam Built 7 

Letter Exercise 148 

Midnight Scenes 128 

Mussulman's View 6 

Not from My Bottle 3 

Power of Eighteous Law Ill 

Prohibition's Bugle Call 78 

Question for Patriots 12 

Eesponsibility of Voters 45 

Sailor Lad 122 

Sermon in a Saw-Mill 38 

Temperance Eevolution 30 

That's the Question 135 

Three Views of a Whisky Bottle. 34 

Tramp's Views, A 31 

Whisky Deacon 84 

Water. 
Nectar of the Hills 67 

Woman. 

All the Eights She Wants 93 

Anti-SufEragist's Lament 25 

"Dorlesky'e Errents" 74 

Eve's Eecompense 73 

Funeral To-day, A 164 

Level of Civilization 101 

Eemedy Within Eeach 130 

Shall Mothers Vote ? 126 

Voice of a Star 168 

Vot der Voomans Haf Ton 24 

What J. M. B. Thinks 50 

Why? 68 

Woman's Answer, A 143 

Woman's Hour 170 

Worried About Katherine 59 

Woman's Christian Temperance 

Union. 

Evangelistic Dep't. 

Prayer by Dr. Deems > 113 

Vessel in Danger 36 

Deift of Flower Mission. 
Flower Mission 104 

Bep't of Franchise. 

All the Eights She Vv^ants 93 

Anti-SuG'ragist's Lament 25 

" Dorlesky's Errents" 74 

Eve's Eecompense 73 

Level of Civilization 101 

Eemedy Within Eeach 130 

Shall Mothers Vote ? 126 



2-J4 



Topical Index. 



No, 

Why? 68 

Woman's Hour 170 

BepH of Loyal Temperance Legion. 

Loyal Temperance Legion 108 

Puzzled Santa Clans 161 

Temperance Army Vl\ 

DepH of Mercy. 

" About Ben Adhem " 147 

Dawn of Mercy 100 

Place in Heaven 79 

Saint Monacella's Lambs 167 

Simon Grub's Dream. 146 

Speechless, The 70 

DepVt of Mothers^ Meetings. 

Appeal for the Home 132 

Baby Shoes 15 

Case of " Personal Liberty "... 28, 39 

Cost of a License 13 

Difference, The 103 

Glorious Monument 62 

Lead the Boy 152 

Mothers Who Wear the Ribbon 

White 151 

New Song of Sixpence 110 

Shall Mothers Vote ? 126 

Terrors of Eviction 109 

Wanted— a Boy 159 

What Do You Care ? 71 

Worried About Katherine 59 

DepH of Narcotics. 

Case for Charity 99 

Midnight Scenes of a Great City. . 28 



No. 
DepH of Peace and Arbitration. 

Arsenal at Springfield 125 

Decoration Day — 1882 144 

Peace Hymn of the Republic 131 

War God, The 131 

Dep't of Prison and Jail Work. 

Flower Mission « . . 104 

Sailor Lad 122 

Dep't of Bescue Work for Girls. 
Midnight Scenes of a Great City. . 128 

I)ep''t of Scientific Temperance In- 
structwn. 

Patriot's Ally 106 

Temperance Education Law 107 

DepH of Soldiers and Sailors. 

Sailor Lad 12;2 

Dep't of Temperance and Labor. 

Does it Pay ? 94 

Liquor and Wages 96 

Dep'i. of Y. W. C. T. U. 
Word to the Y'8 116 

W. C. T. U.— General. 

For God and Home 123 

Great Problem 112 

Master Calleth, The 114 

Unfortunate Trellis 44 

White-Ribbon Army 117 

White-Ribbon Banner 156 



